Hear a word made to be spoken, see a being of no birth.

Picked like a red flower,  smitten by  red earth
Invisible  at sunset, shaded at soft dawn
Hear a word made flesh, see a being but no birth.

What were blue and red saying, was it a curse?
As the graduates crossed, in red gowns , the green lawn
She picked  a red flower,   tore the  red earth

In the immeasurable ellipse, drawn into the next verse.
The sign of the cross broken, the illuminations torn
Hear a word made to be spoken, see a being of no birth.
Were the strangers forsaken, were their minds cursed?
See the decorations of fire, see the scars new born
Lit by  red flares, buried  with new  baptised earth

Oh,sweet-bitter eros  dying,  hanging gardens of death
Shall Babylon be summoned by the ancient ram’s horn?
Hear a word made dross, see a being but no worth.

Where is my silver needle, my  thread long and forlorn?
Where can we acknowledge the dead, the never to be born?
Picked out like a red flower,  shot down in  red earth
Hear his  flesh die wordless ; give a Bible a  slow birth