Does God write with human hand
Or pen upon the fragile sheets
Of ancient tome, prophets' words
Ex ora Dei on stone tablets scribed?
Or rather, in the rocks and sand
Grave His words, a history of creation
Encoded into every chromosome,
In starlight scrawled in subtle colors
Where every open eye or spirit unfettered
Where indeed is truth to be found?
In a petty babble of sound assembled,
Of words written by men great and small?
Men who often knew nothing at all?
Lewis writes that "Of men
I have known liars plenty,
But the stars do not lie"
Strange truth to confound the very point
He wished to make.
The stars speak indeed to the prepared mind
Of a Universe billions of years old
Born in fiery mystery, written in God's true language,
Knowable to all who are not born blind
In their deepest spirit, turned away from truth
To follow men's self-serving lies.
So many turn away their eyes from reason
Embrace instead the mystic rune to discern
Whether Satan's fall preceded or followed Man's in Eden
As if the light of that day, already ancient
Were a lie.