Something I Heard

I heard a story of a transcendent glory that bowed down, strayed into dirt, not accidentally, but for love.  I heard how the vastness of space was crushed into a jar of clay, how the infinite echo of exploding stars became a baby’s whimper.  I heard the baby grew to be a man and told grave stories to the inattentive.  I heard he wept when children wandered and when wise men locked themselves into windowless rooms because they could.  I heard he put aside even the trappings of a teacher and, almost naked, washed the grime from dirty feet.  And I heard the man of endless space and boundless thunder died of cruelty, and no one ran to his defense.  I heard that I should strive to be like him.