This poem was the result...
The wise man lords it over the other figures
Standing around in the ceramic village
After all, that infant in the manger is his charge
No one can care for him so well as he
Certainly not the baby’s mother
Struck with maternity at too tender an age
Distracted with responsibility and a thousand worries
He’s far more capable than the harried stepfather
Unsure what to do with his ceramic bundle of joy
He’s definitely more efficient than any of the shepherds
Standing around, flirting, laughing with each other
Insensitive to the gravity of the situation
Only the wise man understands what’s happening here
Although his two colleagues may have a clue
Sense what everyone in the ceramic village is becoming
Symbols of something far greater than their material
Icons of a venerated holiday, wrapped in mystery and legend
He will guide and care of the child, whom inherits the bulk of this burden
Even if the child never cares for him in return.
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