A mediocre offering
Was what the firstborn chose to bring.
The batch was deemed an unfit thing
To set before the Most High King.
What was it with this fellow Cain
And what went on inside his brain?
Did he rely on rotten grain,
The Lord’s good blessing to obtain?
Yes, Cain knew how to till the soil,
He reaped the fruit of his own toil
But lacked the wisdom from above
Comprised of fruits like joy and love.
His younger brother brought the best,
And found approval. He was blessed.
But Cain was angry and downcast.
He had to get revenge and fast.
God saw the chaos in his soul
And wanted Adam’s son made whole.
So, He gave Cain another chance,
The proper offering to advance.
“If you do well, I shall accept
The produce you from me have kept.
Receive a cue from this wise sage:
You simply must contain your rage.”
But there were voices in Cain’s head,
And they wished Abel to be dead.
They told Cain why he shouldn’t hear
the truths God whispered in his ear.
“You’ve every right to feel this way.
The Lord’s voice you need not obey.
These are the facts, we do not jest.
You know Dad likes your brother best.”
Cain let his feelings drive him wild,
Just like a spoiled, unruly child.
To self-control he would not bow,
But let his anger loose, and how!
With violence like a sudden flood,
He murdered Abel in cold blood
And demonstrated no remorse
When asked about his wicked course.
God made Cain pay the penalty
For acting on his jealousy.
From him prosperity would flee.
A restless wanderer he would be,
While searching here and searching there,
Not finding comfort anywhere.
Confusion was his destiny,
And yet God sought to set him free.
For though he was a wicked guy,
God spared his life. Cain did not die.
God’s mark of mercy sheltered him
From those who might avenge his sin,
This grace, I think, was heaven-sent,
In hopes that someday he’d repent
And start to thirst for righteousness
Within that dark place of distress.
Perhaps he did. We do not know.
However, as the scriptures show
He built a city. Was it tall?
It could not save him from the fall.
I guess it was the first stronghold,
Inhabited by young and old,
Asylum for a man insane,
Too many voices in his brain.