The Weeping Reaping

I saw a world the other day
where Angels wept up Heavens way.
I asked them “What does cause your pain;
they said “Those people gone insane.”
I looked to where their hands did wave
where Demons danced upon my grave.
“This is the lot that your mob find;
there’s nothing else within your mind.
You run to death but fight to live;
there is no quarter you will give.”
I left them then, that weeping horde
for up above I saw their Lord.
“Oh Lord” I cried “what has gone wrong;
has not this world come from your song?”
He bowed his head and sunk down low;
his voice was frail, his words were slow
“I made it all and such a mess,
this world that I did one day bless.”
“If in my image they have grown
then my flaws they’ve now deeply shown;
I know now that I had no right
to bring to darkness my own light.”
I left him there, where he did fall
the One whose thought created all.
I know now we are on our own
and we shall reap what we have sown.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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