In Love With Nothing

This world is an enticing place;
Though God's creations are many,
One is particularly smitten with the human being.
What a mighty piece of work is the human body
That even the Sons of God desired it!
So can one blame those who are drawn to it,
And who have built their lives around it?
So powerful this lust for flesh seems
To someone who can think of nothing else.

Those who worship the human form
Devote all their time and energy
To the fulfilment of their desires.
Their thirst is endless, and their quest has no end
Except the natural one.
Such hunger was never meant to be filled,
And such fire could only consume the one
Who produces it.
And there is no escape.

They seem to have abandoned
Whatever caution and restraint
That confined the love of flesh earlier.
Now many have been set loose,
They have discarded their clothes in apparent glee.
This is the way of the world now.
Some even painfully alter their bodies
For the pleasure of others.
A lot could be sacrificed for such joy.

Yet what is flesh but something
That will not last the test of time?
The luscious slab of meat that one savours today
Is tomorrow's wrinkled monstrosity,
And the next day's reeking pollution
Fit only to be burnt or covered by mud eternally.
Yet many are willing to cling to such a temporary joy.

And the tools of joy that are given to all
Are also subject to the ravages of time.
So potions have been discovered to fortify
The flaccid unwilling muscle of depleting joy.
And tired old bodies are rejuvenated
For the sake of this unforgettable thrill.
Some risk failing hearts and broken bodies
To relive the exhilaration of the past.

They surely love the body that God created,
But do they love God as much as they love
What He created, and then threw out in disdain?
Is the Creator worthy of the devotion
That the created merits?
The answer is too obvious to be stated.
The smell of live meat is all-consuming,
What about the reek of that which decays?
Would the desire for the dead flesh be
As inspiring as the love for the living?

Man was meant to love his own flesh
But not to worship it.
We have made gods out of our own bodies;
The idols that we were asked not to keep
Are still with us.
And the One who created what is desirable
Is not as desirable as what He created.
And there is no escape from this obsession
Except to listen to Him
Who says that we are slaves to this joy,
And that only He can set us free by exposing the truth,
The truth that we are in love with nothing.

-Samuel Godfrey George