A damaged sphere, help there for the asking
They ventured out to start anew,
repopulate and farm, though few.
The flora spread again to feed
the creatures who survived, they need
to multiply across the ground
of all the globe, spread right around.
Protection of the sphere more flawed
– and in the gaseous mantle, stored
less power to shield, protect,
so climate harsher, they detect
a shortening life-span, and some species’
numbers show no great increases,
dwindling, though they struggle, strive,
in conditions hard to thrive.
Moisture now as heavy rainfall
but with beauty-bow to tell all
never more again such flooding
so destructive, but be learning
though he waits and calls with patience,
he must one day end vile violence.
Sediment in strata, layers,
packing down, but pushing pressures
cause to heave and buckle, build
mountains, ocean valleys, filled
with the liquid off the land
at the Manager’s command.
But the Mighty One, the Lord,
speaks compassion, comfort Word:
planting, harvest, cold and heat,
will in cycles now repeat –
hard times borne, prepared for, certain
soon afresh comes new provision.
But will they share,
and for each other care?
And will they gratitude express,
for all provision undeserved?
Gradually, numbers of stewards increase,
but thoughts of their Maker’s words dwindle, or cease;
and so many ‘wardens’ stay, clinging together,
to plan to be great, and they do not consider
their duty appointed throughout all the sphere.
They planned with little thought of him
their Owner-Lord, they claim
for their own skills renown, but he
alone deserved such fame:
their works and thoughts did not submit
to him, so he confused
their speech, – ability and unity
they had abused.