A religion collected dust. No sound waves blew across the kept canon. No challenges. No changes. Neat and quiet, the noiseless liturgy disturbed no one. Then, the Word spoke abruptly, shattering the stained-glass cage. Dust flew, but few knew how thick it had grown.
Deep silence dies slowly, if at all.
A place waited. It now felt recreated. The planet danced: an awed world hearing love, finding a Voice of sure celebration.
Joy to the world. To young mothers and bent old men, to lonely women and all who have ears to hear: joy to the world.
The Word is come. Let earth receive His Voice.