Matthew Ch. 2 v 16-18.
Narrator.
A rival to the throne
Somewhere unseen,
Unknown.
This would mean
All little boys must die
Who had been
That same night
Of visitation,
Under the flame-bright
Night sky
Of that star’s illumination;
Strange light
To identify
The World’s light
And those who’s plight
Became a dark abomination.
What’s a score
Of babes, or more?
Small thing
For a king
From hell to face,
A simple case
Of damage limitation.
It was just a few
And rather little
Boys that died,
A mere mini-genocide.
But guided by another dream,
It would seem,
The star King
Had by then gone,
With father Joe
And mother Mary
Already become one
More refugee
Family.
So in fact
The killing proved unnecessary.
But, fooled and ignored!
As king
From hell.
No lesser thing
Could so bring
Fear-blown pride
From its hide
And make it ring
The death knell
From a sword.
Yet a diff’rent sound
Was really made
As the blades
Cut each round
Angelic head
From trunk and limbs.
Just sounds of dripping
As they bled.
No note from steel was rung,
The only note heard sung’s
A mother’s scream
As over roofs it skims.
In this history
This mystery
This partly gory story,
Of joy and dreams,
Of lies and schemes,
Of fools and wise
And starry skies,
There’s one thing more,
Deep and terrible
That even wise men
Back then
Never saw.
Before this Truth,
Despite all schools
Of all wisdom’s worldly rules,
All wise become as fools.
That by this birth
The king of life
He came to Earth
To hell on Earth,
To bring a life
That’s otherwise unknown to you and I.
But to bring this life,
An innocent must die.
