The Lord did Come

Very, very great long ago,

He was frantic, in great stress, and in great trouble.

For who would take care of his Earth he had just created?

His best one, his best one;

The most glorious and beautiful of all his planets he had made. 

Of all of them, had only this called life.

Wondrous, wonderful, mind-boggling forms of life,

From green tapers who kiss the skies to tiny grasses that carpet this earth,

From humongous lions whose roars shake his creation to tiny insects who question their existence,

Be it vast waters soaking up the sun or dry sands begging for waves to reach them,

Be it huge mountains wearing hats of frost or dense grasslands dazzling with petals,

But he had to make one, for who would take care of his magic?

He made us, a creature called humans, to safeguard this planet.

But how could we, how could we look after other creatures?

And so did he empower us with the biggest weapon ever,

The gift of brain, the gift of logical thinking.

Thought he that he could rely on our smartness, 

And so did he come all hidden to see how well we perform his holy highness’ duty.

The Lord did come, the Lord did come;

His thumps can no one, not one can hear. 

But what his eyes see, wipe they out the smile from his face;

Forever and ever;

For he could see us doing everything except saving his planet,

And this, indeed, is a very, very bad news.

We are humans; we care for our earth in a way too great.

By stabbing our green friends;

By tearing apart animals’ skin for how could we survive not using leather?

By using cent percent of our conscience and melting down glaciers;

By producing toxicity in development’s name to help all breathe well;

By taking his magic for granted and digging our own graves so all can live better. 

How impossible is it not to wage wars and empty mothers’ nests;

To assault someone, let their dear ones find them flowing down drains;

To well-wish our species by stabbing from the back. 

We care for humans by killing each other.

We love flora so much by wiping it all out.

We love animals so much for their exploitation that we think they are lifeless. 

The Lord did come, the Lord did come,

Have we really done what made us us?

He is in anger, in great rage at what had his eyes seen.

If we can't tolerate our own ones, what help can he expect from us?

In great rage, in great anger, did he curse us,

“I, your creator, shall end you one day."

Shlok Pandey is an Indian boy with a mind full of poems and stories. He is an emerging writer who writes to connect with the hearts and emotions of the readers. His story titled "Who's Poor?", is scheduled to be published in the September edition of the Wise Owl Magazine.