The World’s A Poem

The world is a poem good and beautiful and true.
It’s shouted from the stars afar and glitters within me and you.
The strings of creation play the music of the spheres,
Trees and mountains point above, reaching beyond the stars.
But we, so caught up in things below hear with defended ears,
The echoes of that broken symphony, its melodies tunes and bars.
We see the rhymes within creation
Then turn and pass them by and fall below our station.

The world is a poem cracked and chipped and broke
Nature warped and twisted and in its blood it’s soaked.
Stars explode and pass away, people strive and sin and die,
Our Earth groans and cries beneath the harsh tread of our souls.
We know it should not be as such and the wise men search on high,
While the empires of dirt below, fight for their blood soaked goals.
Creation asks a war torn “why?” and peers behind the cloud
We cannot save ourselves from wickedness we shroud

The world is a poem, light and splintered rainbow and murk
Fallen, striving, laughing, dancing, dying toward what end does it work?
Heroic monsters and sinful saviors afloat on the swell of time
None are righteous, no not one! Glorious day then night then dawn
Lies in webs and truth in lies, nations rise and rot and fall, history is rhyme
Old men linger, children die, light from the shadows is drawn
We cannot see with time bound minds the fullness of the song
That through the ages blood and toil even the true is served by wrong

The world is a poem, aye, and by The Poet of all it’s told
Word made world from first to last and by Him from of old.
The King that was the King that is the King who is to come
All heavens and rocks and mites and us in Him find our sum.
In choice and freedom we did fall but ever more did grace abound
For even here in das sheisshaus His eternal noble gifts are found.
Behold the Poet! Behold the poem! Behold redemption is at hand!
For the living word of the Poet incarnate is come to save His land!