The child wearing the crown of thorns,
is dozing in your womb,
dreaming about both fall and flight
as the primeval man thrown down from Eden

Unfolded miracle, your infant,
sucking his finger, and perhaps
dreaming about his future wings,
is holding the whole Earth in his small palm
on which his temple rests
Invisible glasses are dimming his sight,
so neither can he see the sky,
nor can perceive the light his head’s bathed in –
the halo of an angel;
how could he know the Sky and Earth,
which nurture him, are twins?

The spark inside his heart will grow
if you keep giving him the warmth of love.