Note From Above Poem by D A Phinney

You think you're hot, but I'm the one
Who set the fuse and lit the sun.
'Let light now BE! ' I shouted, too.
It let me see-but blinded you.

Though all your woes and cares I note
that in your mind may sink or float,
I really cannot help it, see,
For I'm aware omnisciently.

But do I care or grant some worth
To what befalls your piteous Earth,
That tiny speck of dirt and terror
That shackles you with death and error,
Where eyes turn up, your souls to raise
In hopes to gain my nod of praise
And lift you up into my heart,
All free of pain, to never part,
To dwell in Paradise with me,
all saved, for all eternity?

Yes, I know the tales you tell
Of how I'll save you from your hell,
Of atman and your trinity,
Your 'spark of my divinity',
While millions murder millions more
To prove for them I'm keeping score,
And those who hold themselves most holy
Seize infidels and burn them slowly;
The bodies lie down through the ages,
Martyrs to the dreams of sages
That too soon were interrupted,
Their pure intention fast corrupted,
Twisted to a tax on Fate,
The cost of pride: to toll the gate;

And moderns mostly slip the oar
And cast about for any shore,
And often coin-toss take or give
To seek how best the soul must live;

While I observe the whole milieux
And laugh, because the joke's on you;
For I won't save you, Sir or Madam.
And as for souls-you never had 'em.