Creation's Sunset

Civilisation is as wild as the wilderness,
And nature is as ordered; as civil as civilisation.
They are all one and made one,
In sight of the hallowed Word;
that is the creating; the created, creation.

Hush, and listen to the breath of those trees:
One alive in the light of the Sun,
Hidden by the veil of sight,
Alive by the Spirit hovering over the muddy waters;
The other bears the fruit, decaying, open like a wound -
The one, the torn apart by my bloody mouth,
from my ageing hands;
I chose and choose to pick.

The horizon exhales its fumes, coughing and diseased.
I bend myself down, lower my head –
Until I hear His wind brushing over flesh,
His Grace in cruciform branches,
Crunching, howling, cracking as they cry,
Singing and cooing with the magpie’s sigh.

So we share for a moment, reconciled;
Watching the sun’s eternity slowly decay,
As His Sacred is split,
Oil and water,
Building and bush,
Sharing the sorrow,
As I and the city skylight forget.