To God

How dare You rip us from Your bosom,
Stealing away Our perfection!
And we, as pawns, created for nothing
But mechanical love, You smiling,
Sanctimonious enough to leave
A hint of autonomy, but with the consequences,
Your expectations are obvious.

But We were One and We were Perfect,
Now we are here, alone and waiting,
Until You decide to have us again,
But still separate, still subjects,
In Your created kingdom.
Let not the peasants be the King again.

You are a self made tyrant, an idol
Created by and for Yourself.
Our lives, our misery is but a game
And You have named Your kingdom the prize.

Are we such fools as to have forgotten
That The King's crown was once our own?
Before gardens, before falling,
We, Together, were eternity:
Infinite in Our vagueness.

But You ruined that,
And I will never forgive you.