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The Golden Rule (Free verse) by Quarton
Painstakingly, the omnipotent one
kneaded and shaped each figure,
pausing on occasion to admire His work;
fingers deftly molding the eternal clay
into a reflection of self, in His likeness,
perfect image embodied and aware.
His creations multiplied and were many
though he also engendered illusion
and in a singular, enigmatic way,
part of Himself became alone and afraid.
Unaware we are God's perfect image,
with dualism perceived as reality;
what purpose life's bumpy road,
why was temporal from eternal made?
Should we then give thanks to our God,
never questioning life's many absurdities?
Repeating over and over ad nauseum,
how He works in mysterious ways?
A mother cradles her precious child,
the essence of unconditional love.
But what of God and His children;
is His love for them somehow less?
For if magically given His powers,
who amongst us would not intercede;
to end all life's pain and sorrow,
do we not deserve the same?
Perhaps an answer in point
to this paradox not easily solved;
is to fairly do unto others
as you would have others do unto you.
With that thought firmly in place,
I sense hypocrisy from Heaven's gate
and am inclined to respectfully inquire;
"why not follow your own golden rule?"
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Arithmetic Mean: 5.25
Weighted score: 5.029801
Overall Rank: 7254
Posted: January 14, 2003 9:22 PM PST; Last modified: January 14, 2003 9:22 PM PST
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Comments:
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"Cautiously, the zebra wanders across the plain
Playfully, the giraffes dance and play in the water
Determinedly, the cheetah seeks his prey."
AAAHHHHH
Not to say this poem is horrid, it is just all about god this and not god that and after awhile the spiritual quest or the finding of comfort in the lack of spiritual quest is tiresome. Of course, every writer goes through it at some point. It was just the starting sentence, the adverbial clause, reminding me of that horrid book where the clauses fill each page, and the pictures cannot ease the pain of hearing my voice read those sentences. The horror. Sorry. Carry on.