Something I wrote a couple of weeks ago:
Think, O Man, of that craving that has echoed down through the ages,
Like a bitter poison burning through so many lives.
It shimmers like a jewel to catch the eye, a brass ring just out of human reach,
But is instead a burning deceit that brings only grief in its wake.
Like a curse, this longing for control, for power, for might -
The dark desire to be our own god, and to deny the God who brought us to life.
Mother Eve, beguiled with a longing for more than she had been given
Contemplated the dark glowing light of that craving,
Power to know, power to do was the twisted promise in the Serpent’s lie,
“Be like God,” he said, and the whisper slithered into her mind,
There to be fanned by her own heart into a full blown lust,
Control promised in the form of a fruit stolen from the Owner.
And in reaching for what was not hers, what control she had
Wrapped in the delight of living in the friendship of God on an uncursed earth
Was wrenched out of her hand and the hands of her descendants
By the One who was far stronger than she.
O Man, how often you forget in your longing for that which is not yours,
That like your father Adam, you are naked in the eyes of your Creator,
For He sees the dark seed planted in your heart since the Fall
And how you turn away from His offer of healing as you chase after phantoms.
How the old Serpent smiles as the seed blooms anew,
As you burn hot for the trappings of mastery, forgetting your Maker.
But you will find that all the tools and trinkets meant to enhance your control
Cannot protect you from the pain of that separation,
Or from the reality of just who you are.
When life comes crashing down upon your head,
When the earth quakes and the mud slides and the waters rise,
You will realize, O Man, that you are frail, mortal, and not at all God.
Look! Your illusion of power is nothing more than a shadow,
A dark miasma, a fog that evaporates like smoke
If seen in the light of Him who has the true control.
In that bitter awakening will you admit
That the stories of human grandeur you have told yourself,
All those tales of your power, strength, and might are not enough
To calm the raging pain in your heart, your mind, your soul,
Or will you let your pride take you down all the way into the pit?
O Man, naked you came into this world, and naked you will leave,
and your works will eventually turn to dust, for you are not the Master.
And yet the God whom you challenge in your hubris and pride
Still holds out a hand in love for his creation.
Instead of that black darkness he offers you the light.
Choose before it is too late - He stands at the door and offers you his heart.
Good day to you.
Moving and powerful piece you have written Knitting.
Thank You.