Merry Christmas! May we never lose the wonder of the wondrous, nor the inexplicable joy over the miraculous. E. E. Cummings’ style perfectly captures the explosive energy of the nativity and “the whole / perhapsless mystery of paradise.” Heaven come to earth! The Creator fleshed in creation. The greatest gift ever given.
Richest blessings as you ponder the depth of THE deepening ground from which all peace, hope, and joy springs!
Christmas Poem
by E. E. Cummings
from spiralling ecstatically this
proud nowhere of earth’s most prodigious night
blossoms a newborn babe:around him,eyes
— gifted with ever keener appetite
than mere unmiracle can quite appease —
humbly in their imagined bodies kneel
(over time space doom dream while floats the whole
perhapsless mystery of paradise)
mind without soul may blast some universe
to might have been,and stop ten thousand stars
but not one heartbeat of this child;nor shall
even prevail a million questionings
against the silence of his mother’s smile
— whose only secret all creation sings
From the December 1956 issue of The Atlantic
the deepening ground 
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