No truth of he and she can be more sure
Than Nature’s law inscribed in sands of time;
No fact more constant hearts of clay endure,
Than bonds unseen that Nature’s threads entwine.
The proof is woven through all living things—
In every form that feels her shaping hand;
Fresh acts of life new chronospecies bring,
From forms now mortared deep in stones of sand;
Though human lust may clothe a naked truth
And darkened hearts profane her primal light,
No fevered rantings here could ever move
The edict that four billion years proves right—
For Nature judges not—as time has shown,
Her story bound in leaves of grit and stone.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.