Free Will, and the Father

Art is never finished, and an evolving creation is never complete

but when you've made it self suffcient you have to take a seat.

They learned to multiply, and seem to do it rather well,

and the plant life seeds its self about, and April's rains fell.

So what is a creator to do when free will demands he not direct?

When chesspieces move thier self, and topography is not to spec?

Intelligence that created worlds and fathered nations bored?

Nature dictates progression or deterioration. It's not in accord.

Personal progression and growth builds the eternal parts

that makes him omiponent, and the Father of our hearts.

As Earth is a mirror of all Heaven showing us the future and past

the family head is presiding there, just as ours do here in roles cast.

Loving millions of children, watching their mistakes, but interfering not

takes millenniums of lifetimes. The eternal job of Father that he's got.

I look at this child I hold as she sleeps in her father's arms.

And I think of all the pitfalls, and earth's potential harms.

I caught her as she fell today to spare her the slightest pain

Yet, he watches many fall, while more pray for them in vain.

For eons he must have reached out, yet caught himself just before

he interfered with free will and made puppets of us and more.

For those enslaved learn to hate the master, be he Father or not

and in time he would have lost those tripping tots he caught.

    © 2012 Tamera Dobbins