The Father and his Troubadour
     sat down
   Upon the outer rim of space.
     "And here,
   My Singer," said Earthmaker,
     "is the crown
   Of all my endless skies--the
     green, brown sphere
   Of all my hopes."  He reached
     and took the round
   New planet down, and held it
     to his ear.

   "They're crying, Troubadour,"
     he said.  "They cry
   So hopelessly."  He gave the
     little ball
   Unto his Son, who also held
     it by
   His ear.  "Year after weary
     year they all
   Keep crying.  They seem born to
     weep then die.
   Our new man taught them crying
     in the Fall.

   "It is a peaceless globe.
     Some are sincere
   In desperate desire to see
     her freed
   Of her absurdity.  But
     war is here.
   Men die in conflict, bathed
     in blood and greed."
   Then with his nail he scraped
     the atmosphere
   And both of them beheld the
     planet bleed.

   Earthmaker set earth spinning
     on its way
   And said,  "Give me your vast
     infinity
   My son; I'll wrap it in a bit
     of clay.
   Then enter Terra microscop-
     ically
   To love the little souls who
     weep away
   Their lives."  "I will," I said,
     "set Terra free."

   And then I fell asleep and all
     awareness fled.
   I felt my very being shrinking
     down.
   My vastness ebbed away.  In dwind-
     ling dread,
   All size decayed.  The universe
     around
   Drew back.  I woke upon a tiny
     bed
   Of straw in one of Terra's
     smaller towns.

   And now the great reduction
     has begun;
   Earthmaker and his Troubadour
     are one.
   And here's the new redeeming
     melody--
   The only song that can set
     Terra free.
   The Shrine of older days
     must be laid by.
   Mankind must see Earthmaker
     left the sky,
   And he is with us.  They must
     concede that
   I am he.  They must believe the
     Song or die.

  Calvin Miller
  From The Singer Trilogy