Another manger

What trembling light, what quiver of eternity gleamed in the shepherds' eyes, unaware heralds of an hour that would shatter time like a vessel overflowing with heaven. You wish for the transparency of that intact heart, naked of pride and fear, to draw close to the threshold of the cave, where the earth breathes the miracle that overshadows it. You long for eyes of crystalline wonder, pure as the first morning, to seize the whisper that transforms the world, the silent song that illuminates every distance. You yearn for trembling lips, almost like dawn, to stammer the name that fills and dissolves everything, while the star keeps watch, high, invincible, above the abyss of time. Yet that moment belonged only to the shepherds, the first fruits of the waiting of all humanity. History will not return, but a threshold remains open, and if you come much later, it does not matter: the mystery awaits. It is enough to make your heart another manger, a womb of silence, where the Infinite may be incarnated again.