We have separated ourselves
by our own design.
We've made a false Garden of Eden
from the world that we define.
We've marred the feral beauty
conformed it to our will.
Entrapped it held it far below
but there's something out there still.
Something that is not man-made
not even in the least.
Something that has the power
to awe us to our knees.
Something that a man sees
within a woman's eyes.
Something that we know
when we gaze at starry skies
Yes, something in the starlight.
And something in the moon.
And something in the mourners
beside a fresh dug tomb
Something in the wind.
More than music in a song.
And in a child's stomach
when he knows he's doing wrong.
Something more than houses
and tilled and planted sod.
There is still much out there
that can only come from God.
cc 2000
Benjamin J. Cline
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