Do Please Tell Me: I’d Love To Know

You arrange for infants to be born

Into Your world by rival creeds torn,

Creeds that claim they are the best

Seeking to triumph over the rest,

Fomenting thus grave strife and war,

Drowning the world in hate and gore.

Of the creeds that rave and rant

The infant’s first blissfully ignorant,

But soon it’s made to think and do

On the lines its folks want it to,

As they believe that it really must

If in their creed it should get to trust.

And so, the child, without its leave,

Is carefully groomed in order to believe

The creed of those it’s surrounded by

(Even though all this may be just a lie).

It’s happened thus down history

With painful, unfailing regularity:

People their creed come to inherit,

Unaware of its faults or merit,

Brainwashed to believe it is true,

The best of all, and perfect, too,

This creed into which they were born,

Treating the rest often with scorn.

Rival creeds have continued this way

To exercise over mankind firm sway,

Through generations and down centuries,

Being perpetuated thus with great ease.

Whose fault is this? Why’s this so?

Pardon me, but this You know:

Had You arranged things differently,

Maybe like this they wouldn't be,

For, You decide who’s to be born where,

And who which creed’s burden will bear,

Infants made to do this by folks who

Were made by none other than You

To rear them and help them grow.

It’s You who arranged that this be so.

Why did You make things to be

This way for most of humanity?

Perhaps one day You will relate

How You decided these souls’ fate,

Making them be born where You decreed,

Thereby inheriting this or that creed.

On what basis did You do so?

Do please tell me: I’d love to know.