Friday, 22 August 2014

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