GLORY...(Christmas story)

"On Christmas Eve the bells were rung...." -Sir Walter Scott

Above the hills, the sun fell on broken mountains, bowing  to the  darkness that swallowed everything in its path. It left only a gleam  of  gold touching the horizon.

Skiffs of snow swirled  over craggy peaks, a promise of winter. So cold , thought he, as he stood out in the blackness. He longed for peace today. Too many people . Something howled as the moon rose and a single star  shone  insistently. He grudgingly began walking, muttering to himself about how  annoyed he was to be out this late.  His lantern faltered .  

 He wrapped his heavy cloak around his head.  Wind whipped at  his feet. Biting cold. His lantern was the only comfort he  brought. Little solace for him.

 He was drawn to the light in the sky.  The way was long and arduous. He wanted to be anywhere but here. And yet he had to be here. In the night. With the star.

Just that one star piercing the sky like diamonds. 

 He complained to the wind about his lot in life, while the star flamed over his head.

Wind blew with a fragrance he did not recognize. Sweet. Pungent . He breathed it in. 

The star led him  into the  hills.  To a place he used to play as a  boy. Long ago, when he was young and the world seemed new. Now he was old and had forgotten . So forgotten.

The star did not leave him. "Glory...."he heard, somewhere beyond the beyond. "Glory...."it sang again.

He knew it at once. A place of refuge .  A place that he  had come before as a child with his friends to play. It was a poor place. A safe place. It was his old place.

The star stopped over that  quiet, dark place now bathed in light.  He saw them there. The two of them. She  held a  baby, newly born. It wailed  to the new  world.

"Glory," he heard singing somewhere out of the dark. On this night of nights. He shivered. Not with the cold.  

He was the first to arrive in this place. This lovely, special place. He could not speak. His words would not come. The baby fussed, as babies are want to do.  

His eyes met hers. She smiled and touched his shaking hands. "Glory..." he heard from far away.

He did not know this child, but he felt the child knew him.   "Glory" sang from the star into the night. He no longer felt tired or old, but new again. So new.

Others came . Others  who were curious. Others drawn by the star. And still others wrapped in velvets and wore crowns, and had travelled  from afar. They bowed down and gave  "Glory..."

 He had no gift. So he gave them his lantern to hang up high and shed light in this place. This wild , poor place .

The star  moved on, close to morning. It was time for him to leave. It was time to return.  He had been the first to arrive. Now he was the last to leave.

   On that bleak winter's night, when the world was new again,  when  he saw heaven in the sky.....

 Photographs 2023