My Lord! This second heaven;
Is indeed a better home to be dwelled,
I stand aghast and mesmerised
With my heart sweetly surprised,
You have woven artistically;
rivers, mountains, forests and creatures.
The history has a rueful story to tell
Of you creating and leasing the land to them,
The rude owned, modified and now sell
Your world for his own benefit,
Welshing your deal; making life unfit
O Lord! Throw the justices' stem,
And equalise them, O Benefactor!
Innocents are searching you, The Creator
Days and nights—from set to dawn—
The mundane world's inspirer.
On earth, they won't find you, I know
Unless they themselves find them now,
Come lord, descend gently down
Know your mistakes of early leaving.
What's the need of having you, My Lord
If you are a lord of no goodness,
There are rascals to kill and places to filter;
Not the villages' innocents and their homes,
Be selective Lord, in planting human genomes;
Understand me Bush's rudeness and Binladen's madness
Chinese's stubbornness and Dalai Lama's struggle.
Come on Lord, tell me what I ought to do,
Make use of your power—omniscience,
Not even a second's ado
Or the world shall burn in red,
Show me where beasts fled
What's nuclear? What's science?
Give me light, Give me Wisdom, My Lord!
What blessings does a straw-made God possess?
A shapeless mud? A ringless wood?
Connecting our hearts to you has a long process
For stones resembling you are born heartless,
They pray you My Lord—truly limitless—
As you were once sung by Milton;
What if you alter your woeful mood, forgive,
And accept them back into your heaven?