You’ve a Strange Sense of Humour, I Must Say

You’ve a strange sense of humour, I must say,

A very odd game that You just love to play,

Spending Your eternity in overseeing

Worlds You will to come into being,

Among them, this tiny planet called ‘Earth’,

Where many species You cause to take birth,

And make one against another to strive

Simply so that they can remain alive.

In perpetual struggle You make them engage,

Driven by hate, jealousy, greed and rage,

But with numerous virtues, too, as well:

'Good' and 'evil' here both You make to dwell.

Engaged in constant clash both these,

Not for a moment do You let this cease.

Most amusing you must find this, I suppose,

Else, why would You ever such a game propose?

But what makes it even stranger than this

Is that in the vast universe, all there is,

All things and beings that in it are,

Are You in myriad forms bizarre,

So that in this grand cosmic game

The actors are all one and the same,

All being You, appearing as many,

Goodness me! Isn’t that funny!

It means all You do is with Your own Self play,

Now, that's quite odd, wouldn’t You say?

But great fun, too, I'm sure it must be,

To revel thus in Your own company,

Through the countless forms You assume,

You must thoroughly enjoy it, I presume.