We know that the whole creation
has been groaning in labor pains until now;
and not only the creation, but we ourselves,
who have the first fruits of the Spirit,
groan inwardly while we wait for adoption,
the redemption of our bodies (Romans 8:22-23). 

For all its lawfulness –
how time arcs, dragging light along,
how an object cannot be two places at once,
how blood and electricity cycle somatic circuits,
how the sun rises in the east every morning everywhere –

the cosmos wanders,
restless, dissatisfied with now, groping
for a hand to pluck the right chord and resolve
the dissonance roiling deep space and disturbing
every creature, predator and prey, that shares hunger

and fear with the stars.
Nothing stands still, all circle or collapse,
dissatisfied with here, dying but groaning with
labor pains, anticipating life again with unbearable
aching. And on the watery earth with its recalcitrant

chaos, an imago dei finds
a silent pocket of stillness after hearing
an unexpected word that could be a dream,
a settling foundation, or the wind. Restless as a mote
riding a moonbeam down, the human joins the choral groan.

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Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash. Public Domain.