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.