Stone of Worship
by HWatts
Men build statues of stone,
sculpted by hand,
chiseled with a slow
tink… tink… tink.
Chipping, arm raised high,
an image slowly emerges.
He finishes his masterwork,
places it on a stand,
Such beauty in marble.
He has a gift, they say.
So they worship the stone,
though it does not see;
sing to their idol,
though it cannot hear.
Clever men - they take of nature,
then deem it holy;
they teach their children well.
The generations pile up knowledge;
they name the stone,
this part is Copper,
this part Gold,
piling it up name by name.
Learning new properties,
putting them together
now, in new ways.
They name their work Science,
and prove their are no gods.
They teach the children well.
God has died, God is dead.
Killed by ore pulled from dirt,
by the hand of men
so wise in their ignorance.
Science becomes their religion,
it is the work of their hands,
but they can't see it.
false are their words,
but they can't hear it.
Believing in their own lies.
Creation, trying to learn itself,
that is their Science;
having but scratched the surface,
they deem themselves wise,
while God from his Holy Temple
laughs at their lack of knowledge.
He is God. He spoke these laws,
and they appeared.
The Scientist tells his child
Np - that is not the way.
The world came abut in this way:
First was nothing.
But nothing suddenly exploded,
and it caused a really big bang.
A bang so big,
the world popped into existence.
That was their genesis.
I tell my son,
"Coincidentally, my son,
the big bang came at the word of God."
I tell him that evolution is a theory.
He laughs. His teacher told him different.
Later, he understands -
when he opens his eyes
like a puppy.
"Welcome, my son,
to the world our God has made,
to the day that he has given;
rejoice, and be glad in it."
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