Mortal Hands

Poem written for a contest about God despairing of a fallen world

A torrent sweeps gently over the lands
As angry clouds peel shadows to reveal more darkness -
A paradise lost by finite hands.

Decimated woodland,
Love – a dying crone.
Agapé is murdered,
Eros stands alone.

A Godly figure wonders how we ever took control -
A race built on a compromise, whose hands have torn their soul.

Visionary handy work that left his people blind.
As memories of Eden came dancing on his mind.
“Hands off!” the broken song retorts –
Authority in vain,
Because our hands abused his gift
We’ll never see again.