Admit it, my Lord, this just won’t do. It just won’t do to create like this. To put such an eggshell Earth in a void, such eggshell life on the Earth, and into that-like an inconceivable punishment-consciousness. That’s too little, that’s too much. That’s misgauging the scale, my Lord.
Why do You demand that we squeeze a universe into our children’s toy skulls that can be clasped in two palms? Or are You doing to us what You did to the oak-squeezing the whole tree into an acorn?
I’d never treat my dog like You treat me.
Your existence is not a scientific but a moral absurdity. To presume Your existence as the creator of such a world is blasphemy.
If only You hadn’t baited the trap with so many temptations. If only You hadn’t made clouds, gratitude, a golden head for the autumn acacia. If only we didn’t know the thin, greenish, sweet-sweet taste of existence. Your sweet lime-twig is monstrous, my Lord!
Do You know what it’s like when the blood-sugar level sinks? Do You know what it’s like when the little white patch of leukoplakia thickens? Do You know what fear is? Bodily pain? Ignominy? Do You know with what wattage of light the murderer glitters?
Have You swum in a river? Have You eaten a lemon-apple? Have You grasped calipers, bricks, scraps of paper? Have You got fingernails? To carve on live trees with them, scribble on scaly plane trees, while up there, on and on the afternoon goes on? Have You got an up-there? Have You got an above-You?
I haven’t said a word.
(Agnes Nemes Nagy)
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Based on Topics: World Poems, Light Poems, Nature Poems, Pain Poems, Autumn Poems, Science Poems, Morality Poems, Gratitude Poems, Temptation PoemsBased on Keywords: inconceivable, baited, fingernails, ignominy, thickens, greenish, acacia, swum, absurdity, eggshell, calipers