The Idol Factory

Ever since the “Bright morning star” dared with his creator to spar craving the seat on mount’s north side his mind molded the idol, pride. The seed of pride, a torrent spawned in creatures formed at earth’s first dawn. Desiring to be like God, they fell from grace and became flawed. Mankind’s mind like a workshop weaves, the idols to which his soul cleaves. He never seems to have enough So, he makes a god of his stuff. With an axe man cuts down a tree And builds a house upon a lea. Then from the wood, he makes a cup to use when it is time to sup. He carves a god, shaped like an elf and places it upon a shelf then lights a fire, prepares a meal and worships it as if it’s real. Conceived in curious, corrupt minds these idols everywhere we find Be it lust for sex, wealth, or fame their paltry pay is all the same. Of idols made, there is no end. When God to us is dead, we spend life’s precious pearls as passions sway controlled by gods, like pawns in play. We were fashioned to worship God and by His presence to be awed. When we do not give Him his place idols of vanity we’ll chase.