At the end of the book I just finished, Life At Its Best by Eugene Peterson, come several poems written by him as he meditated on the Incarnation of Jesus. I didn't get most of them, and there were two or three that I kinda liked, but the one below is so far my favourite poem among them.
A long wait before the faithful, sovereign, and all-wise God, I will not fear.
I see him, but not now; I behold him, but not nigh;
a star shall come forth out of Jacob.
No star is visible except at night,
Until the sun goes down, no accurate north.
Day's brightness hides what darkness shows to sight,
The hour I go to sleep the bear strides forth.
I open my eyes to the cursed but requisite dark,
The black sink that drains my cistern dry,
And see, not nigh, not now, the heavenly mark
Exploding in the quasar-messaged sky.
Out of the dark, behind my back, a sun
Launched light-years ago, completes its run;
The undeciphered skies of myth and story
Now narrate the cadenced runes of glory.
Lost pilots wait for night to plot their flight,
Just so diurnal pilgrims praise the midnight.