ONE day as Our Lord, The Unfolding One,
Played the shadow game with His cousin John,
He no shadow made
In that sunlit glade.
And John seeing this, running swiftly after,
Caught Him with a kiss and breathless laughter,
And pointed to his own,
And how The Child had none.
There was a bird — the sky was so blue!
Just one word was all The Baby knew;
How the glade rang
While young John sang!
‘The bird hath a shadow,
And I have, too,
All the world hath shadows,
But none have You.
What art Thou made of?’
And The Baby said: Love.