A fiction of creations folly

Omnipotent turned a red eye
upon the tiny mite scurrying,
hurrying in panic across day.
The patter of its soul muttered,
keening in a lubricious whine,
it was a condescending pest.
Of all the living creatures
it had a texture of eggshells.
A soft underbelly frosted by
the decay of its incessant greed.
It was the footlocker of sin,
the crown of death, nails to palm,
nails to flesh, a damnation,
a fiction of creations folly.
Though it had been given choice,
given the love of the divine,
this frog, this warted toad,
this hacksaw of destruction
fed upon its own flesh devouring.
Omnipotent extended its thumb,
spanning the universe, time, and
as one squashes a speck from
existence, it removed humanity.

Copyright: 2010, Donald Harbour