One of my most philosophical poems to date; more of a musing on my own part than a real poem. I did go to some extent to describe scenes, but more is put into the thoughts. Hope you like it.


afterthoughts of creation

It's so amazing to see what has become of the world

From what it was, multitudes of millennia ago.

-

It started so small, so simple—

There were only creatures of the rock

Born of stone and shaped by wind,

Steely and unfeeling, guards of the land

And plants—waving, motionless statues

That graced the barren land with colour.

-

How much it has grown from there!

Change after change, a continuous series of changes

That shaped life, shifted it from its humble beginnings

Into the rainbow of myriads that has sprung from that.

-

Rock became flesh, melded with the life of flora

To turn into the vast, lively, varying creatures

Living, breathing, cruel, beautiful—

That roam the lands, the oceans, the skies

And impress their footprints upon the ancient earth

To join the imprints of those who went before.

-

Where great dull creatures of granite and sand once stood

Are, now, the colourful fauna that came from them

And the plants grow evermore beautiful

Every fragile bloom still so striking and radiant

Compared to the leaves of the old.

-

They make me feel so content, so proud of what I have done,

The works of my very own hands, given the gift of change

But…hasn't it become all the more…ugly? Is this really…

The change I want to see?

-

With their evolution came knowledge and understanding,

Wish for power and fame and success—

And they have begun to turn on each other,

Attack others, who all had the same origin as they did,

Harm them, kill them, turn them into servants…

-

Did I really want them to become so?

My creations now bring each other to ruin—

The flora that once stood as life-givers, ornaments

Stand helpless to the ruthless scour of these creatures,

Who, with their own free will, now harm what I have made?

-

I still remember that moment, buried deep within the mists of memory,

Yet unfading, when I breathed life into my creations of rock.

"Go forth and make the world yours," I told them, without thought,

Without a doubt that that was what I wanted.

-

That wish has come true, for now I, myself, do not own them

Cannot do anything to stop their reign of destruction—

The world is theirs, and if this carries on,

They will bring their own end…and my beautiful creation

Will be no more.

-

Will they remember that they all came from the same group of creatures

Into whom I breathed life, that revolutionary day, millennia ago,

That they are all branches of the same river,

Divided yet similar in a way;

Will they recall that they were all the same, once?

-

Ah, how much it has changed, how amazing, my land,

And how much I now fear to look upon it for what it has become

All is still changing, that in itself never changing,

And all that change has done so much—

From the seeds of creation, a new world has sprung

Rock turned into flesh, plain green turned into a rainbow.

But is this the world that I wanted, when I first formed life?


Not much, but I would appreciate your reviews.