By Richard Mather
Adam is a dry rib
but sinews are stretched,
tissue and flesh fashioned.
Man of Spirit, embodied.
Descending the mountain
with Moses, he falls
with the rain, is blown
on the wind; regales
the tall and the small
with poems and legends
of Jonah; comforts
the bloodied lamb,
the gulping netted
fish; descends further,
into engines, turbines,
hot factories, occupies
the rolling paper mills;
goes down, down into
data banks, the microchips;
enters gates, integrates
circuits; touches
the sea bed’s ribs,
the back parts of leviathan,
white whale; descends
to the earth’s blast
furnace, crucible of mortar
and burning glass; finally
down to the atoms
and quarks
and the in-between gaps,
his immense soul filling
the infinite emptiness of spaces.
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