Becoming small, a bird folding wings,
He drew Himself down into the earth.
The One with no beginning knew the birth
of flesh and blood and felt its slow wringing.
By dying He became a scales fixed
in place to judge—every valley raised
and mountain planed by level crucifix—
His arms nailed open in broad embrace.
Asleep within the belly of the earth,
the One whom all creation can’t contain
lay sealed where no day can ever break,
circumscribed by stone and dreamless dirt.
Then taking flight, the span of love unfurled,
He raised all things to life and woke the world.