God-Forgotten

 I towered far, and lo! I stood within 
 The presence of the Lord Most High, 
Sent thither by the sons of earth, to win 
 Some answer to their cry.
 

 --"The Earth, say'st thou? The Human race? 
 By Me created? Sad its lot? 
Nay: I have no remembrance of such place: 
 Such world I fashioned not.
" - 

 --"O Lord, forgive me when I say 
 Thou spak'st the word, and mad'st it all.
" - 
"The Earth of men--let me bethink me .
 .
 .
 Yea! 
 I dimly do recall 

 "Some tiny sphere I built long back 
 (Mid millions of such shapes of mine) 
So named .
 .
 .
 It perished, surely--not a wrack 
 Remaining, or a sign? 

 "It lost my interest from the first, 
 My aims therefor succeeding ill; 
Haply it died of doing as it durst?" - 
 "Lord, it existeth still.
" - 

 "Dark, then, its life! For not a cry 
 Of aught it bears do I now hear; 
Of its own act the threads were snapt whereby 
 Its plaints had reached mine ear.
 

 "It used to ask for gifts of good, 
 Till came its severance self-entailed, 
When sudden silence on that side ensued, 
 And has till now prevailed.
 

 "All other orbs have kept in touch; 
 Their voicings reach me speedily: 
Thy people took upon them overmuch 
 In sundering them from me! 

 "And it is strange--though sad enough - 
 Earth's race should think that one whose call 
Frames, daily, shining spheres of flawless stuff 
 Must heed their tainted ball! .
 .
 .
 

 "But say'st thou 'tis by pangs distraught, 
 And strife, and silent suffering? - 
Deep grieved am I that injury should be wrought 
 Even on so poor a thing! 

 "Thou should'st have learnt that Not to Mend 
 For Me could mean but Not to Know: 
Hence, Messengers! and straightway put an end 
 To what men undergo.
" .
 .
 .
 

 Homing at dawn, I thought to see 
 One of the Messengers standing by.
 
- Oh, childish thought! .
 .
 .
 Yet oft it comes to me 
 When trouble hovers nigh.

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