The child is the creation of that ecstatic, stainless, motiveless pure love. It is that pure love in the heart and soul that give birth to the Divine Child. It is that pure love that leads the soul right into the heart of the godhead.
Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery, like the idle, curved tunnels of leaf miners on the face of a leaf. We must somehow take a wider view, look at the whole landscape, really see it, and describe what's going on here. Then we can at least wail the right question into the swaddling band of darkness, or, if it comes to that, choir the proper praise.