Nature is Merciless
Nature is merciless, Tears at the roots and murders out of habit, Yet all is well they say, you say, we say, And saying so makes for the less distress, Not in the broken tree or in the rabbit Executed each ordinary day.
The same kindness shows in every act We do to please ourselves, though we pretend Love and superior reasons for our fault, Mistaking inclination for the fact.
Trust no man, nor no woman, though they bend To do you pleasure, hunted or unsought.
Only God, out of the desolate sky, Comes to renew the pattern we have spoiled, Walks for a moment in one or another as He walked before when he came here to die Our natural death, and it was so he foiled Our bleak intention with unnatural solace.
How hard it is even to recognise His presence in the tempest of the world!
Yet there are words which shadow forth the Word Which may not be, but Is, for all the lies We treasure so and praise, as we are hurled Headlong into the arms of the absurd. C. H. Sisson
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