Q~ God's New Plan

God's New Plan

'Are you dead or moved away?' That's the kind of prayer I get
today.
Lately I've been putting them on hold.

I have questions of my own.

When I began to build the universe I was fumbling in the dark.
You had to be there in the chaos on your own to understand
how difficult it was.
There were no maps, no numerals, no maths, no science,
no handy adding up appliance,
but only darkness and confusion, and not much else,
except Myself.

To start I brought light into the void and set it to a speed
that only I would easily surpass.

The universe as first conceived was a wild and loveless vision,
until somewhere upon a fledgling planet,
I introduced a tiny whisper of Myself,
that could transform dull matter into Life.

I breathed this magic into every creature that crawls
or swims or flies on what became the earth,
including man, my wonderchild, to whom I gave
a further glimmer of my light that made him conscious of himself.

I finished earth, and though hot and rudimentary at first,
it was adaptable enough to serve.
Much later on the trees and grasses flourished.
The rolling oceans teamed with every kind of fish.
The mountains I capped out with snow.
I scattered flowers and shrubs into the valleys
and made the giant redwood king of all my forests.

Such places as survive can only hint at how incredible
it was. There was a very special moment as the earth,
began to turn; a joy and revelation even to it's Maker.

But looking at the earth today I want to weep.
I see a world so shorn of love I feel bereft.

I grieve to see such freely given beauty,
sold or squandered, and for what;
an urban sprawl of shopping malls, and tarmac roads,
and metal junk that runs on wheels or flies on wings,
but metal creatures cannot breathe; they only rust and stink.

So much I gave, at so great cost. So much is dead, so much is
lost.

And all that's left is in the evergrasping hand of just one
species.
Man!

And who's to blame? Man is my work and mine alone.
I blame myself. We both were wrong,
but I must take the weight, for he's a child who can still learn,
and I am strong enough to carry any burden.

The question is:
do I patch and mend this ravaged earth,
or toss it back into the fire,
and make a more enlightened version?

I'd give myself a tighter brief;
too much time was spent on the exotic,
not enough on common sense.

Does the ostrich need its wings? It only runs about and hides.
Does the spider need eight legs? Would six suffice to murder
flies?
Does the peacock need such ornate feathers
that took six times as long in their design,
and still the stupid bird can barely fly,
unless I give it a propeller.

This time I mean to focus on essentials.
I was more arrogant in youth
and rarely paid the weather due attention.
As I recall I used it chiefly to impose my will
by thunderbolts and floods and plagues of frogs,
and turning Lot's wife into salt,
but didn't grasp that tricks like these
are better left to those who practice to deceive.

Now I am very old, and hold it dear
that power without wisdom is too dangerous to use.
And, what is more, I want a weather system that's more stable
where the play of natural forces
makes it rain or shine with fewer hurricanes and floods.

In short, I want a world that's self-sustaining,
with no interference from God nor Man.

This time I'll fix the earthquakes up to give more warning,
and relocate the moon to harmonise the monthly cycle,
and get the calendar to work precisely,
and spin the earth without a wobble.

And this is where it gets exciting; just look at this!
Isn't this a beautiful equation?
It rearranges DNA in a most ingenious way,
to slow the progress of old age.

And this time I won't rush to finish.
I must have been deranged to think,
that I could do all this inside a week.

There's such a mass of work to do,
But I'm no longer on my own; my Son has joined the family firm.
He's awfully keen, but so was I when I was young.

I'll get my Son to figure out
what livestock we can comfortably manage.

We are both agreed there must be changes.
It was a very bad idea to favour human kind above the rest
We must give other animals a chance.

We'll bring men down to quarter size,
and I'll design some stronger legs,
and feet we'll borrow from the ducks,
and from the penguins we'll get suits and flippers,
and make men fully waterproof,
so they can swim and dive, explore the sea,
and start a whole new life among the fishes,

but not colonise the earth,
or get above themselves,
and think they have a sacred right,
to turn my oceans into rubbish dumps,

my meadows into parking lots,

my forests into sawn off logs,

and still have the insufferable gall
to wonder why I don't return their calls!