The River Of Life

There was a man, in childhood times, the “garbage man”, they'd say,
Who used to drive a garbage truck, my dad would call the “dray”;
I asked him what that strange word meant, and he explained to me
That garbage must be taken out so we are freed to be.

He said don't ever put him down, or scoff at task he does
We don't pay much for him to work, and that's not good because
If garbage is not taken out we'll all get sick and die –
It was that way in former times, till we learned reason why.

The money paid for garbage work does not reflect its worth;
The folks who carry out such tasks to families give birth,
Have needs like us, have right to live in this community,
(There's little status for that job in this society).

As I look round we're drowning in the garbage of our day;
Oh yes, we haul away our junk to landfills in a dray,
But we are slow to use again, recycle, use up less;
We do not value things we have, so smother in our mess.

So where to start in cleaning up the mess around our feet?
How ’bout the middle, where we are, if end of this we seek?
For if we start back at the first, we'll to the middle get,
But if we start out where we are, our target will be met.

What's true within communities is true within our lives –
We're up to ears in useless stuff, and for all this we die;
The same holds true for inside world – start where you are right now,
And look at what lies right at hand – recycle it somehow.

Some things must go, give some away, dust off some other stuff;
It doesn't take that much to shift from style of life that's rough;
Sometimes it's something small that gives a ray of hope within;
Some things are obsolescent now – (not everything is sin).

I am a lazy sort of guy when dray-work must be done;
More like the former timber-men who logged in river run;
Sometimes a snag would back things up – two miles of tangled wood –
They'd dynamite that hidden snag (location understood).

They'd let the river wash away that topsy-turvy mess,
And while the river did the work they'd take a needed rest;
Then pull the stray logs from the bank so they would float away –
“Why duplicate the river’s work, let river be the dray”.

There is a river in our hearts that flows along through time;
It carries all our junk away, cleans up our lives just fine;
When things jam up behind some snag, don't pick it all apart –
Just find the snag (a few sometimes) then dynamite to start.

Locating snags is critical to knowing where to blast;
God is the dynamite in life, He does that to our pasts;
(Not to destroy, but just release, so river can be dray
Then we can pull leftover stuff off banks like loggers' strays).

So few respect the garbage men who work life's river-drays,
Who dynamite our snags in life, free us to pull the strays;
They save us work, free up our lives, and let the river flow
Which carries clutter from our lives, so we to life might go.

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