by Carl Etheridge

Created on: April 15, 2008

Like diamonds on the fingers
Of the deceased,
The hands of winter
Catch frozen tears
From One who cries
At what he sees.

He pondered, He shaped,
He placed each piece
In a verdant setting.
He sighed,
And a warm breeze
Brought laughter and love
To those he created.

He awoke one day
To see his children play.
They knew not their creator
And so they laughed,
And they loved,
And they felt the warmth of flesh,

A godly creation.

They searched for more,
In wonder of discovery.
They found ecstasy
In the creation of all things.
They explored the wonders
Of the One that brought the breeze
That caressed their bare bodies,
And sang a song,
Through the leaves of the trees.

They laughed,
And they loved.
They forgot to pray
To the One who taught them
How to play,
To laugh and to love
In the warmth of His breath.

They ate the fruit
That nourished His soul,
They reached for more,
And could not hold
The glory in their hands.
They sought the One
That gave them love.
They looked around
But not above.
They listened to the breeze,
And fell on their knees.
But they knew not the One
That was the creation.

And so they cried,
And they did not love.
And though they tried,
The only One above
Sighed, and He cried.

The tears of discontent
Were cradled in the hands
That wore the sorrow
Like diamonds
On a dead man's hand.

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