Monday, August 29, 2016
Anahit Arustamyan writes
YOUR SON GAVE HIS HEART TO THE WORLD
God! Your Son cherishes this world. He left His blood in the soil. That’s why a poppy is red on a green slope. No lightning is a burning rope. The sky’s nerves may float in any raindrop. God! Your Son’s glow is on the highest top. His glow reaches a small snowdrop. Rainy days come and go to let the sun show its gold comb. O, sins, whose skin is ironed instead of the clothes? God! Your Son makes a candle give its light to a newborn hope. There are billions of pillows beneath the soil. The soil takes nothing to spoil. The soil turns a snowflake to a snowdrop. God! Your Son gave His heart to the world. That’s why there’s a pulse even in the smallest pond.