A Little Child

In the stillness of the night

A little child, shining bright,

Came to me with words of gold,

Glistening mysteries untold,

Hands stretched out in prophetic song,

The rhythm sweet, the silence long.

While his lips, slender and fair,

Lit a fire in the black air,

He reached forth to touch my eyes,

Yet quick as when lightening flies

The child was gone, the room  all dark,

But for a small smoldering spark.

My heart did tremble, my soul did weep

From this vision in my sleep.

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