There is no smell like fresh-baked bread, no sight akin to dancing steam when knife has pierced the amber crust revealing yeasty stuff. There is no moment quite as rich as when this feast of smell and sight has drawn us from our separate rooms to gather and partake. This dancing steam appeared one night, disguised as star light overhead. And from the nations, far and wide, three wise ones came to see. Come, Bread of Life, and make your home within the corners of our hearts. Come, draw us from our separate rooms to gather and partake.