The Spawn

They figure salmon spawn each year to cleanse from ocean crud;
They battle up the churning falls to lay their eggs in mud;
Then they die off, let younger ones encounter ocean depths,
Engage with life and death out there, return, lay eggs and rest.

Like life that is, as nature culls the sick, the weak, the old,
And leaves life here as possible – so tenuous our hold;
We think we can defeat, prolong, or slip by sickness, death;
But it's illusion, we don't win, there'll come our final breath.

Some folks die young, some folks die old, some linger, some go quick;
Some healthy are till final days, some others always sick;
Some find a way to live their lives while meaning fills each day;
While others stumble in the dark – a grim and bitter way.

Some find their way out of the swamp, but damage lingers on;
Some break their bonds and find a life of merriment and song;
Some crippled are by struggles here; some find their hip displaced
From struggling with their God all night in barren windswept waste.

But now our fish-farms raise our food and dirty rivers make;
Young fish swim by and can't resist in rivers, ponds, lakes;
So they die off, as nature culls the schools of weekend fish,
We wonder why fish stocks are down, far less to fill our dish.

That's how we raise our kids as well – pollution's in the pond –
"Free speech", "the right to live our lives with entertainment ‘wrong’ "
Just five percent are criminals, who generate for us
The plots for all our TV shows, our wound with oozing puss.

So kids swim by, and can't resist – infected minds and hearts;
We wonder what the problem is, and where the trouble starts;
Well – duh – just take a look around, we do it everywhere –
Pollution is a fact of life, for which we do not care.

Church used to be a place to go away from all that puss,
Where we could raise our kids ’till strong without a lot of fuss;
We were not pure, why, far from that, but cleaner was the air
Than what we found out in the world (where we'd attempt repair).

For like the river pens of fish (though healthy places these)
Each church affected life around, spread  health amidst disease
But now the churches are corrupt, spread sickness into health
Cut off from vine of righteousness, devoid of Spirit's wealth.

But that's not new, 'twas always thus, but need not stay that way;
Each time it sags some folks rise up, insist they have a say;
So I look around, assess the scene, say ‘not for me, by Jove,
The mess is ours, it's time to change – this trash has got to go.’

I cannot change the whole of it – not very much indeed,
But I can change this little space, and thereby planted seed;
For like a seed the kingdom is, and that to us He said –
If we will let our hearts be changed, become like heaven's bread.

For bread must break and wine must still, we get wrung out He said
But look around, you’re quite alive, you could have all been dead;
Forget the ones who will not change (at least for now), move on,
Pick up your shovel, get to work, and dig in with a song.

Okay, let's go, enough of this, let's make a better life;
I'm sick and tired of stinky pens, of hassles, troubles, strife;
God said one time, "Choose life or death" but settle on one course –
Choose life, if life you'd rather have – you'll end without remorse.

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