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 On the Mystery of the Incarnation by Denise Levertov 
						It's when we face for a momentthe worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
 the taint in our own selves, that awe
 cracks the mind's shell and enters the heart:
 not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
 to no innocent form
 but to this creature vainly sure
 it and no other is god-like, God
 (out of compassion for our ugly
 failure to evolve) entrusts,
 as guest, as brother,
 the Word.
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