A God's Wrath Poem by Christian Muller

With ass's bone old Samson's wrath did slay
A thousand men. But would that catch my eye?
A man whose holy pen has washed away
A thousand worlds. In ink did drown and die
The lesser lands that I with love had made.
By this foul rod I feel the sheer sublime
That does a god endow. I am afraid
Of what this tool can do in mortal hands.
But what cruel sin did my fair children make?
The crime of being born in dying lands
Did mark their fall to die for their god's sake.
But I'm a wicked god. A thousand dead
Is scarce enough to keep my hunger fed.