Between time and eternity
nothing was fixed.
One gaped at the other
across an unbridgeable void.

Stories of patriarchs
pinned them lightly together.
A loose frame of parables,
scraps of psalms, prophecies, tongues.

Poets tried words;
scientists, numbers;
musicians, delicate vibrations;
painters, the placing of colours

but nothing was fixed
until a workman took a hammer and a wrist
and with one whack nailed down
eternity screaming into time.

© Godfrey Rust 1997, godfrey@wordsout.co.uk. See here for permissions.

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