Iron April

Watch the iron robins sleep,

while the ocean bends and creaks.

Oil the trees and honey bees,

to carry on mechanically.

Through the molten centuries,

the world is weary of this pace.

The heavens, brass, seem ever pass,

by the cursed human race.

Hand me, then, the bloodborne key.

I've seen the green beyond the gate.

Reveal in me, the brilliancy,

while all creation groans and waits.

Romans 8:19-23

"For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now."