Illuminated Page

A gold box of Latin words rests in a dazzling, fanciful field someone raised to life, lavishing flowers with untraceable roots, histories too distant to discern, upon skin-pale, palm-sized vellum. Imagine the one who did this, lost in dwindling light, a trembling flame and painstakingly lovely colors: blood red, violet, heavy yellow and fierce, unnatural green. Framed like a window to the artist's heart, the mother and child, uncomprehending men offering what they can: the infant touches a tiny, gold-leaf casket. All around him the dark, heraldic blue of angel winds, night sky, her veil. And below him, you can see the word God printed over infinitely careful erasures.