Mystery

God is met not as an object to be understood, 
but as a mystery to be loved  -attributed to Gregory of Nyssa
d. 19 July, 394

Crisp and white underfoot
crunching whilst I take out the bins:
It’s going to be a cold one tonight!

A look at the news of Ol’ Blimey and the Spaniards
and the mystery of the excessive heat baffles
whilst antipodean lands freeze over

The fires around London and in Spain 
permeate the air with acrid smoke and fear
whilst fires of red gum on the ranges provide much warmth

A social media post laments the climate change
happening up in the north
exciting experts and sceptics
to pronounce their understanding on 
truth, reality, and fiction

It is cold down under
Yet London’s burning,
yes, London’s burning

There is a kangaroo in my carport

‘tis Mystery all
wrote Wesley before his chains fell off
and I could allow the next line of his hymn
to set the heart of the macropod free
although I suspect it would rather remain in the warmer indoors

Mystery!
Just maybe Gregory of Nyssa nailed it
Some things are meant to remain a mystery
rather than being a burden to achieve the impossible quest
to understand or even comprehend, 
so that you could hold a smug position of pontificating
on whether the change is real
or the climate is one big hoax?

All is quiet now
in the stillness and the cold
except for the sound of a kangaroo 
bounding across the ice

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