My son, my son borne from the war
We trade shovels for swords
My son, my son
Inherit the earth, inhabit the wound
Oh how far we fall…we fall
My love, my love captive to lusts: consumed
My love, my love buried beneath the vile machine
The earth with a final gasp
Shook free from our inventions
Grace and nature reconciled
I heard, “It is finished.”
The final seal was broken
The concussion blew me back
I teetered on the edge of re-creation and the wrath
Nine Lovers stumbled out
From their shells of brokenness
They reached inside their wounds
To find the seeds borne from their suffering
Coalesce upon me to plant the tree of life
Inside the heart of the machine