Man is dust, and unto dust shall return
and when possessed, vanity does he yearn.
The proud accuser has swollen his cap
with, Ye shall be Gods (and fall in my trap)
Sing praises to man, his name on your lips!
His hands have yielded smaller microchips,
split the atom, and saved us from COVID;
he will be able to power the grid.
Yet from trespass and regret, his soul tears
and it suddenly dawns on him, “Man errs.”
He looks at nature, sees trouble brewing,
filled with relevance, claims, “That’s my doing!”
But such reverence, to man do not pay;
send it to Christ, ad altáre Dei.
Christopher Del Sordi