Calling Time

We're past the winter solstice yet still the days feel darker. Conflicts unresolved cascade as torrents tumbling through the news. Vital visions are fog cloaked while we worry wants of now, scrapping for what is left, lest we find we're squeezed – extruded. Can mere human interest see beyond misuse of creatures, crops and carbon for our end? – end of air and sea that's trashed. Consumed in our indulgence – idolising god of growth – we ourselves may be consumed by wrathful winds and rising seas. Even when the sky seems clear, by day we can not see out of the blue. True dark of night shows stars that shrink us to know the space in which we're set, in limits of the home here to breathe and breed. Can we yet return, respect the giver? – rein back to a steady pace, covenant ourselves with grace to live peace within this place, at one with God, saving face?