MANS GOD

MORE CHANNELLINGS FROM THE COMFORTER.

All-Powerful Creator; Invisible Majesty,

To each creation from your hands, Unseen;

Revealing to them all your living travesty,

In all things yet to be, are now, or e're have been:

What repercussions shook Your vast Serenity,

When Men on Earth first learnt to plot and scheme?

 

Is thunder Your roaring  at our poor duplicity,

When we murmer wisely of some new-found

Cosmic beam?

Do you turn aghast from each new war monstrosity

Which drops like stones into Lifes' flowing

Stream?

What thought you when we found Your-

Electricity, When Earth was still yet primeval

Green?

Does harnessed Lighting shock Your Great

Simplicity?

Will you turn disgusted from our dream?

 

Perhaps, from some great stratosperic chest,

You gave to us, with Universal Hand,

Free-will; then shaking with earth-quake

Laughter at your jest, lest mans' Free-Will,

Outran Lifes' fleeting sand, your other Hand

gave Man an endless quest? 

Like Pilate, then, perchance You,

Washed those Hands.

 

We measure cycles of evolving life;

We speak of things to come:

What think you God? do we not progress?

Yet hazy clouds of doubt obscure our

Gleaming daily sun:

Are we your pawns in some vast game of chess?

And as of old, why do you persist in being

Dumb, when we jeer at you, and buffet you,

And ask you to confess?

 

What then is Truth? We teaming Pilates ask,

And crucify each Truth that we can find;

Then turn afresh, resume the endless task,

Blind guides, who love to lead the blind!

 

Omnipotent Life-Stream Cavalcade of Glory,

May nothing dim this pageant of the Earth,

Unceasingly may Nations live their story,

Unendingly mankind dies, to find new Birth.