Precious Stones

I made a pile of gems for every nation

Each stone was perfect truth, beyond compare

And then I sent each race an invitation

It said, “Please come along and take your share.”

They asked me how to keep them clean and shining

And carry them back home, not let one fall

I told them, “Weave some bags of your designing...

The form and colour matter not at all.”

I thought they'd put aside their guns and sabres

To meditate on each and every gem

And then decide to visit all their neighbours

To see the precious things I'd shared with them

They should have found it marvellous and moving

To have these clues to understanding me

But no, they quickly set their minds to proving

How absolutely stupid they could be

Instead of joining in the joy and wonder

Of all the truth and wisdom they could win

They treat each other's gems as pointless plunder

And fight about the bags they put them in