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The Incidental Man

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Ashes to ashes, doth sayeth the One
Whom from ashes created His own
The dust of the earth became the womb
From ashes he rose alone.

From the flesh came another
Born was she from her lover’s side
Together they walk amongst good and evil
Yet perfection within they reside.

A perfect plan created by One
Whom sadly would one day repent
The creation of them who reject Him and say
“’Twas all nothing but an accident.”

‘Tis the dawn of the incidental ones
Who walks the earth with no conceived plan
Forgetting the One who painted upon canvas
The portrait perfection of man.

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