Everything's made of something
Beaches are cockles and sea-froth and sand.
Smartphones are wires and clock-ticks and nands.
An arm is a shoulder, an elbow, a hand.
Everything's made of something.
A child is a sperm and an egg and a womb.
Progress, a chat in a chair in a room
Patience, those times when “it's coming quite soon!”
Everything comes from somewhere.
A train, to the place at the end of the line,
A child, to the adult consid’ring a crime.
The adult, to judgement at the end of spacetime,
Everything's going somewhere.
The Bridegroom, His bride and the thrill of the chase,
Beloved, her Lover’s turned-toward face,
The Serpent, inventions of human disgrace,
Everyone praises something.
A human, carnation of Imago Dei,
A human, a grass-blade, withering away
A human, eternity-hearted today,
Everything is something.
Everything, made for his pure delight,
Everything, made by his Divine Right,
Everything, made through his wisdom-might.
Everything's made from something.
Beaches are cockles and sea-froth and sand.
Smartphones are wires and clock-ticks and nands.
An arm is a shoulder, an elbow, a hand.
Everything's made of something.