Poem: Judgment Day

By: Lavinya Celly

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Queue a rock: perfectly crafted by divine

And the blossom of birds and cherries and trees

Admiring His work, He goes and lays down where

The wood drake rests in a mint-like glee.


The mighty margay feeds fated ferrets by the shore

While He comes into peace of His wild wonders

Content with His creation, He beams at His little world

And adds bounties of sculptures and numbers and colors.


A swift scrutiny of suddenness, He gazes at this all

And realizes that there’s something missing on this globe

His eyes shimmer with solution, and He sets to work

To make His own miniatures, and finish His humble abode.


Robing His veil, He bids farewell to His children

And apprises them to hold each other in dear

For they were a family who were to look after His realm

And quick for his word, he winged away with career.


Quick into rising action: The children attempted at virtue

Then ruptured their bond and pierced each others’ souls

The cascade of agonies were so loud that it reached all the way up

That the Very Embodiment of Tolerance almost lost His control.


Descending to Earth, He boomed in rage in the manuals:

“To resist your own afflictions, you must concur to be kind

Each human heart inspires the other, so don’t trigger a domino

To live together is to enlarge the close contracted mind.”


But as some things go, children refuse to listen sometimes

The Very Virtue’s own creation refrains acts of honesty

They go against the very Creator they so highly praise about

And are walking conflictions of greed— the highest act of hypocrisy.


Their mutual fear had brought peace for somewhile

Until individual desires were sowed and released

The downfall was spread, and its baits were in waiting

Yet their selfish love had only kept increasing.


Now He sat down with holy troubles

For it was the darkest sixth hour in their history

He watered the ground with His novel tears

And now enter: the very awaited climax of this story.


The children never missed a chance to sabotage

Or impose selfish rules to strangulate and muffle,

And invade on others who were feeble and weak

And make celebrations at bloodshed and scuffle.


He frowned as He recited His repeated recitals in mind:

“This is the still sad music of my humanity

I have chastened and subdued my own creation

Nor my fault, nor my merit, though I feel ample guilty.”


“Their strength was never estimated by bills or bread

Or industries or idealistic investments

Where are their robots and reinforcements now

When all there is left is human hearts and fragments?”


“And I have never felt this for my other children:

My round ocean, and singing air, and crystal skies;

But in the human intellect: there was a certain distinct spirit

That was the reason why my children died.”


“I failed to make their conceited souls realize

Of the wars that were going on where their spirits meets

I failed to tell them of what their ears refused to hear

I failed to show them what their eyes refused to see.”


“Even their name is a shameless melody of irony

For these Humans are the least human creatures I’ve ever seen

Tell me: what wonders rise, what charms unfold

When there was never any compassion in those eyes?”

By: Lavinya Celly

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