I turned my eyes from God's first-handled things

I turned my eyes from God's first-handled things,
the fullness of the earth and all therein,
to look on memory, my own reward.
I saw not trees, but saw their second kin:
stone pillars shaped like trees, imaginings.
The spirits in me quarreled and grew bored.

In blossom clouds was heaven neatly stored.
In earth below my feet hellfire licked out
with tongues, not real tongues, just tongues of flame.
Soon I'll forget what I was on about.

Soon I will be one more defiant horde
roving a barren field, yawping my shame,
unless He would remind me of my name.
I rabble-rouse, I wait upon the Lord.

Also posted here: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8gbtmh/i_turned_my_eyes_from_gods_firsthandled_things/