a poem by Priya James

He made the world around me,
I enjoyed what the world gave,

He made the land to walk on,
I raced on it,
I dug into it,
I stole the riches it held,
I grabbed the energy it gave,
I stripped the land He gave,
It was mine,

And He never complained.

He gave the air to breathe in,
I polluted it,
I rose above it,
I used up the freshness it held,
I burdened the cover of protection,
I captured the sky over me,
I had grown,

And He never complained.

He raised the trees to shelter us,
I climbed it,
I grew it to cut it down,
I built for my taste and selfishness,
I was never satisfied,
I had cleared up the green,
I wanted more

And He never complained.

He provided the water of life,
I drank it,
I spilled it,
I spoiled it to hold my waste,
It was full, I still emptied into it,
I believed it spread wide and long,
I had an opinion.

And He never complained.

He send the company for me,
I misled them,
They joined the crowd,
We turned against Him, It was war,
We had the power to win, We were arrogant
We were the world

And He never complained.

The actions didn’t go unnoticed,
The prices were laid for every action,

The earth quaked,
The sky thundered,
The water rose,
The sun burned.

There was no land to walk on,
There was no air to breathe in,
There was no water to drink,
There were no trees for shade.

The world was in ruins,
We despaired,
We complained in unison.

He sent help into the world.

We rose again to ignore Him,
To kill the world again,
To await another disaster
And a miracle.
And He never complains

(What an attitude!)