Finger in the Fire

 
Who forged this cruel sun
that paints the laurel brown
where birds too parched to sing
perch silent on the bough
 
Who conjured hell from Earth
to poison heart and mind
set greed in human fruit
to perish on the vine
 
Who raised temples in their name
to praise past glories given
sky rags emptier than dust
to cleanse the myth of heaven
 
And which stone God looks down
deserving of our lie
while polishing creation's crown
must watch his children die?