Ashes of paper, ashes of a world
Wandering, when fire is done:
We argue with the drops of rain!
Until One comes Who walks unseen
Even in elements we have destroyed.
Deeper than any nerve
He enters flesh and bone.
Planting His truth, He puts our
Air, earth and rain rework the frame that fire has ruined.
What was dead is waiting for His Flame.
Sparks of His Spirit spend their seeds & hide
To grow like irises, born before summertime.