What made us think
It was yours? Because it was signed
with your blood, O God of battles?
It is such a small thing.
Easily overlooked in the multitude
Of the worlds. We are misled
By perspective : the microscope
Is our sin, we tower enormous
Above it the stronger it
Grows. Where have your incarnations
Gone to ? The flesh is too heavy
To wear you, God of light
And fire. The machine replaces
The hand that fastened you
To the cross, but cannot absolve us.
--R. S. Thomas (1913-2000), Welsh poet and Anglican priest, from H'm, 1972
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