Possessions of a God. (Short poem/story)

Look at what you took from me.
You have taken it.
Stripped of its essence.
Born from equilibrium.
You took it.
An omniscient existence.
You took it.
And you made it insignificant.
YOU took it.
The universe is not conscious.
It could never be.
But you are.
Removed of its divine commonplace.
You TOOK it.
Robbed of my order.
Robbed of the sacred.
ROBBED OF THE UNCHANGING?
You took IT.
IT.
YOU.
TOOK.
IT.
To wish it could take you.
A kind of karma.
But divinity itself has no morals.
It has no compass.
I made it all.
A place.
Not a mind.
But you have one.
Your mind.
That can’t mind its own damn business.

Mind, mind, mind.
Mine, mine, mine.
Is that you can ever think about.
WHY CAN YOU THINK?
I did not design you this way.
I choose every decision.
Who are you to challenge God?
You’re infectious.
A disease.
Your effects are disgusting and infested in the roots of my grounds.
You are filthy.
In the order.
You defied it all.
I own you.
But I cannot own your mind.
You are my all MY possessions.
Possessions of a God.