You / Psalm 90
Before ever the mountains arose
[blind from birth they were, mute, dumb]
Before the seas
before the first dawn
From dust to dust the human story
a crooked line, quickly effaced
Come; mere sunstruck motes
[Adam stands there, Eve radiant there]
their course run—
They wither like grass, the perfect and proud.
Words die, suns set, grass blows, a dust.
What then? we must learn
time and again
like infants, on hands and knees
spasmodic wisdom. Six months, sixty years
one blind tug,
at the empyrean. Teach us to count our days
multiple, scanty, no matter. But a voice of praise.
[Image by Thomas Good under the GNU Free Documentation License]