|
made
light, space, worlds and time, creatures that glow and grow,
bodies that shine above and root, glide, creep below.
Seeing
all this was good, I wanted creatures who
will share my admiration of everything I do.
Though
always bodiless I have a certain form
so modelled it in clay, gave breath to make it warm.
You
are my image folks, greater than all I see
in intellectual scope, but not as great as me.
Your
dreadful faults, alas, reflect what I desired:
a need to make a new life, a need to be admired.
New
lives made with labour, bodies requiring breath,
come to displace their makers, condemning them to death.
I
will not mend the faults that generate our woes.
Mistakes can be creative too, as every author knows.
|