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I smiled when the world was ended. I pretended not to care.
I thought it only fair you see, to suffer such indignity with some restraint.
You may think it easy, but it ain’t.
I recall when they were small, young and just reborn. They looked so forlorn,
and sad, as babies do; and not as bad or half as sad, as when they grew.
The world I gave them was a gift, I toiled long and hard to make.
I hoped they would appreciate it, if only for their sake.
I shaped it with my breath so well, with painted hue of green and blue.
Palate colors you could smell, a feast of colored stew.
I spiced it up; variety in every cup. I added sensuous texture too;
with every touch and taste I knew. And it was such a marvelous toy
made for each one’s joy. I gave it freely to them all, for all their earthly pleasure.
Gave to each free will whose call, was greatest of my treasure.
Theirs to do with what they will, to savor and renew.
They took it like a bitter pill, and did not have a clue.
As child is often wont to do they stomped their feet and whined and cried.
They took my gift and mangled it and stepped upon my pride.
They were so young and foolish then, with no respect and little care.
No surprise evoked me when, they laid my gift so bare.
They made it dirty with their soil, polluted water-well and air.
For every ounce my ceaseless toil, gave me pounds for my despair.
I watched in horror as they fought, blood for blood and eye for eye.
Thinking I should stop I thought, take free will; for lest they die.
But, I relented in restraint, and left them to their sad devices.
Stepped back and let them have their way, to see them solve their crises.
But they, alas, could not see far, and plodded down the long wrong road.
Destruction, hatred, savage war; all manifests of evil flowed
In the end the gift I gave, lay in ruins at my feet.
unhonored to a man’s last grave, destroyed by their defeat.
So I will start again my task, rebuild with loving care and pride,
and if upon their birth they ask, what shall we do with this great gift so wide.
I’ll say what every loving parent says, “free will” means life is yours…so you decide.
One day I hope that all my children see, my gift so rare is meant to set them free.
The earth is theirs to do with what they may. It could be heaven, they have but, to say.
Copyright © vernon witmer | Year Posted 2021
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