song for a bomb

I split and scatter him who splits and scatters,
And in my falling there is Adam's Fall.
Where in this vacuum will you find purpose,
Where in this pattern where a purpose dwells?

It only takes the naked brain to think me,
It only takes a human hand to shape,
And youthful nimbleness to bring to action,
What are you waiting for? Create.

My master quietly pursues his business,
Patient untying of the knotted heart.
Till, fearfully and wonderfully crafted,
Last of his servants forth I come to wait.

My master is the worm that gnaws the root,
My master is the canker in the tree,
But I shall tidy him way for ever
On to the bonfire of death's ecstasy.

   From the Welsh of Waldo of Williams

from "the poems of rowan williams"