Before the seed, no root, no clay,
No carbon ash, no light to sway
Only the drift where atoms lay.

Then tremor gathered dust to stem;
A mineral will assembled then,
A lattice waiting for its gem.

Moisture entered, veins began,
Green circuits forming under span,
Slow calculus of earth and man.

The bark grew coarse, the resin bled,
Each ring inscribed what time had said,
Compression training living dead.

An axe was drawn. The fibres split.
The scent of sap, the grain’s last writ
A monument to yielding wit.

They joined the beams. The metal tore.
The wood absorbed what iron bore,
And knew the weight of death’s cold law.

Now centuries decay the frame;
Sand covers splinter, nail, and name,
The elements resume their claim.

All fibres bend, all bindings break.
The sap returns to stone and flake.
In salvation’s wake
The void will take.

The void will take.