A Poem

I had to compose a poem for my Late 18th Century Classics class about "the world and our place in it". This is what I wrote:

In contemplation of myself, and my place in this world

I turn inward, much as I disdain it, and search for the answer there

And though I know my heart is corrupt, it is made of flesh instead of stone

And so, I fold inward and show my heart bare

I have a yearning in my heart

To love and care for another

I know this strange feeling comes not from me

But is a gift from my adopted brother

I want children of my own

What a strange sounding phrase

Is this because I have loving parents?

Because I have loved their loving gaze?

Not wholly false, not wholly true

The answer runs deeper still

God loves me, and I am his child

His blood paid my infinite bill

I love, and want to love

Because he first loved me

I want to love my child

Because I am His child, and always will be

A babe is helpless, and cannot love me back

A child is sinful, and mine will hate me 

I will love him not because I will be loved in return

Other people despise children, because they cannot see

As my baby is helpless, so am I

As my children will hate me, so I do the same to my father repeatedly

I do not love in order to be loved

But I love in spite of the hate because my own father loves me unconditionally

So as I contemplate my place in the world

I think...I will be a father, and of wrongs not keep track

Not for earthly gain nor love given me

But in obedience and out of thankfulness

For a father who has given when he knew I could give nothing back