THE history of the cosmos
is the history of the struggle of
becoming.
When the
dim flux of unformed life
struggled, convulsed back and forth upon
itself,
and broke at
last into light and dark
came into existence as light,
came into existence as cold
shadow —
then every atom of the cosmos trembled with delight.
Behold, God is
born!
He is bright
light!
He is pitch
dark and cold!
And in the great struggle of intangible
chaos
when, at a
certain point, a drop of water began to downwards
and a breath of vapour began to
wreathe up
Lo again
the shudder of bliss through all the atoms!
Oh, God is born!
Behold, he is born
wet!
Look, He hath
movement upward! He spirals!
And so, in the great aeons of accomplishment and
debacle
from time to
time the wild crying of every electron:
Lo! God is born.
When sapphires cooled out of molten chaos:
See, God is born! He is blue,
he is deep blue, he is for ever blue!
When gold lay shining threading the cooled-off
rock:
God is born!
God is born! bright yellow and ductile He is
born.
When the little eggy amoeba emerged out of foam and
nowhere
then all the
electrons held their breath:
Ach! Ach! Now indeed God is born! He twinkles
within.
When from a world of mosses and of ferns
at last the narcissus lifted a
tuft of five-point stars
and dangled them in the atmosphere,
then every molecule of creation
jumped and clapped its hands:
God is born! God is born perfumed and dangling
and with a
little
cup!
Throughout the aeons, as the lizard swirls his tail
finer than water,
as
the peacock turns to the sun, and could not be more
splendid,
as the
leopard smites the small calf with a spangled paw,
perfect,
the
universe trembles: God is born! God is
here!
And when at last man stood on two legs and
wondered,
then there
was a hush of suspense at the core of every electron:
Behold, now very God is
born!
God Himself is
born!
And so we see,
God is not
until he
is born.
And also we see
there is no end to the birth of God.