The Sun Scolds the Earth:

Of poetic myth are your wearisome words, ignorant Earth!
Third rock, easily by me made lifeless, silence your declaration.
These characters, primordial, are of you in fractions,
imaginings of a human heart, are of diminutive worth.
Titans, Olympians, names undeserving of my station
given by particles of living clay and contemptible in actions.
Yes, the characters of your world are of slender appeal!
What is your wind, earth, water, or fire?
Give it to me as a token.
Only Jehovah knows the truth so what is real?
That for my attention you would aspire,
Or else these bonds of life be broken.
You would have the stars speak of your element,
through the mortal minds of a dreamer.
However, my flames can mean life or my solar wind demise.
So, seek you, my contentment,
and forgo the poetic schemer,
lest your creation I despise.
You by God are of my making, compared, your fire an ember,
Your ocean, in my solar sea, a trickle,
your soil, compared to the masses I manage, merely dust.
You, quickly perishing, leave little to remember.
With a spirit rebellious and a soul that is fickle,
what is love if for your life I do not lust?
You give your mythic trifles to me as a token,
that you and your mortal minds would aspire,
for others, and not just my attention.
All your flowing words are selfishly spoken.
I see in your heart your true desire,
of your glory in the lyric to mention!
Seek not your contentment in fame and adoration, but mine!
Nor seek to steal my fire. Yes, my solar flames can mean life,
or like Mars, Venus, and Mercury, to death, they can burn you!
As Venus, facade, morning and evening star, a barren rock left behind.
As Mercury, in myth a thief, and Mars in war and strife,
None of these give life. Such is what illusion will earn you!
Now find, for me, more suitable a love,
worthy in stature to adore me.
Neither lesser nor greater for the respect I demand!
Find me one from the celestial bodies above,
but not one likely to bore me!
Now fear if you fail, heed my command!