Oh children of the dust and flame,
You bear My breath, you wear My name.
I formed you not for sword or greed,
But fields of love and sacred seed.
I gave you sky, I carved the sea,
Not walls, but hands—community.
You were not born to fight and fall,
But rise as one, and heed the call.
I did not dream a world of kings
Who hoard the stars and crush the wings.
I dreamed of gardens, open gates,
Where kindness walks and hatred waits.
Each face I made, I made with light,
Each heart a lamp against the night.
But envy rose and cracked the sky,
And brother turned from brother’s cry.
Still I am here, not far, not gone,
I sing through wind, through dusk and dawn.
My law is love—not etched in stone,
But written where the soul has grown.
Forgive the debts, release the chain,
Let mercy fall like summer rain.
Lay down your pride, your sharpened lies,
And see your neighbor with My eyes.
What profit is a golden throne,
If love is lost and hearts are stone?
I gave you bread, I gave you breath,
And still you feed the hand of death.
Yet still—I call you, still I wait,
My arms outstretched at every gate.
One heart, one song, one human race
Return to Me, return to grace.
Let justice roll, let peace be sown,
Let no one wander lost, alone.
The world you want, the world you crave,
Was in the dream I always gave.
Michael Forty