Melchior

 My name is Melchior. In my time we depended on the stars to guide the important decisions and directions in our lives. The Bethlehem star was an intriguing sign, and I was not the only one to be fascinated by it. By sheer coincidence, I met two other two kings guided by the same star, and we agreed to make the rest of the journey together.

When we arrived, the sounds of angels were like sweet lullabies, their wings aflutter, and the stable was surprisingly warm. The animals had wandered away, but the shepherds still knelt near the child. The child was not any more beautiful than any new baby, but his demeanor was so open and inviting, though he seemed a little unsettled by us. Maybe it was the camels.
The light that enveloped the manger was not the light of night or day, but a light that seemed spiritual or divine. This maybe most of all was affirmation that our journey had been worthwhile. We left our gifts, ignored the advice of the oily Herod and made our way home, discussing among ourselves what had happened and what it meant.