Poetry. Written Poorly.

the control

in the grand experiment of the cosmos, we are the control

god sits at a desk, perfecting his fledgling omnipotent powers

using his omnisicence to make things right and create things better

 

imagine a time when God intervened before Eve took the apple

imagine a class where God explained the reasoning behind evil and inequality

imagine a place where the unseen is seen and the numinous is within reach

 

inside the laboratory of life

tucked into a dark recessed corner

a small blue globe slowly spins atop a once shiny pedestal

look closer at the label, brush away the cobwebs

reveal the faded sign that reads, "earth v1.0"

 

imagine the burning bush as just a bush burning

imagine Jesus Christ as just a man

imagine the Bible as fabrication and fiction

 

sometimes god wanders by and sees six billion isolated hands

collectively stretched towards the heavens

desperate for answers and longing for peace

 

he cannot help us because every experiment needs a control

"earth v1.0" is a cautionary tale to the other Creators

this is what happens when humans are left to their own devices

 

every murder, war and sin is another reason for god to divinely intervene

on some other world, for some other place, for some other people

 

we who cannot be saved because we are not the chosen

are forced to answer back with futile prayers and screams

that echo long into the Milky Way to eventually fall upon

Deaf

scientific ears

 

 

1 | 2 | 3