Gathered In The Feasting Hall
© Surazeus
2018 12 20
That broken bowl I dropped on the hard floor
is not some metaphor about my heart
shattered by your disregard for my needs,
though I meld it back together with gold
to secure the hollow space of its hope
that you will give before I have to ask.
I give so much energy from my heart
to motivate every person I love,
so they will maintain their role in the game,
that my hollow heart is empty enough
to receive more love than you ever give,
thus my joy is deeper when you give some.
The deep capacity of loving hearts
grows ever greater as we give more love,
therefore give more love to receive more love
and we will surge with gushing streams of love
that could heal so many frail wounded souls
who wander lost in vast indifferent world.
What future opportunities to work
lure me into halls of huge companies
where shadows of deceiving faith still lurk
among large cold calculating machines
that compute increased return of investment
so we know how much to give or to take.
When our land is frozen by winter cold
and trees turn gray in the bleak wilderness,
we gather in warm halls to share the feast
and give each other gifts of useful things
we create with our hands from soil of Earth
so our civilization thrives through wealth.
I spend allotted time each day to work,
crafting material of Earth into things,
food to sustain life or machines to help
process of production and distribution,
then receive money as token of work
so I can buy things other people make.
When I fail to produce required amount
so reward of wealth is not given me,
I fall from the system of food production
and wander homeless in vast city maze,
hands empty of anything I can give,
and my belly hungry for food to live.
Will I become blind vampire of desire
and suck life-blood from those innocent souls
who still participate in social games
by conning them to give without receipt,
so I gain more while never giving back,
and then discard them on the heap of hunger?
After we overthrow dictator kings
and noble minions who live off our blood
to gain freedom from their feudal estates,
we transform kingdoms to democracies
where every person works together well
to maintain good system of equal rights.
We strike from work at dangerous factories
to demand safe conditions and more pay,
hearts united in solidarity of trust
to equalize rewards of give and take
so we earn enough to support our families
and give our children better education.
No longer will one man control our fates
because he claims some divine right to rule,
for we will work together in our cause
producing food so everyone may eat
and play together on the river shore
where we hold hands at sunset and sing hymns.
Gathered in the feasting hall at midwinter,
when productive nature is frozen stiff,
we celebrate rich harvest of our work,
giving and receiving gifts of our hearts,
then I will repair that frail broken bowl
so we can toast life and success for all.
© Surazeus
2018 12 20
That broken bowl I dropped on the hard floor
is not some metaphor about my heart
shattered by your disregard for my needs,
though I meld it back together with gold
to secure the hollow space of its hope
that you will give before I have to ask.
I give so much energy from my heart
to motivate every person I love,
so they will maintain their role in the game,
that my hollow heart is empty enough
to receive more love than you ever give,
thus my joy is deeper when you give some.
The deep capacity of loving hearts
grows ever greater as we give more love,
therefore give more love to receive more love
and we will surge with gushing streams of love
that could heal so many frail wounded souls
who wander lost in vast indifferent world.
What future opportunities to work
lure me into halls of huge companies
where shadows of deceiving faith still lurk
among large cold calculating machines
that compute increased return of investment
so we know how much to give or to take.
When our land is frozen by winter cold
and trees turn gray in the bleak wilderness,
we gather in warm halls to share the feast
and give each other gifts of useful things
we create with our hands from soil of Earth
so our civilization thrives through wealth.
I spend allotted time each day to work,
crafting material of Earth into things,
food to sustain life or machines to help
process of production and distribution,
then receive money as token of work
so I can buy things other people make.
When I fail to produce required amount
so reward of wealth is not given me,
I fall from the system of food production
and wander homeless in vast city maze,
hands empty of anything I can give,
and my belly hungry for food to live.
Will I become blind vampire of desire
and suck life-blood from those innocent souls
who still participate in social games
by conning them to give without receipt,
so I gain more while never giving back,
and then discard them on the heap of hunger?
After we overthrow dictator kings
and noble minions who live off our blood
to gain freedom from their feudal estates,
we transform kingdoms to democracies
where every person works together well
to maintain good system of equal rights.
We strike from work at dangerous factories
to demand safe conditions and more pay,
hearts united in solidarity of trust
to equalize rewards of give and take
so we earn enough to support our families
and give our children better education.
No longer will one man control our fates
because he claims some divine right to rule,
for we will work together in our cause
producing food so everyone may eat
and play together on the river shore
where we hold hands at sunset and sing hymns.
Gathered in the feasting hall at midwinter,
when productive nature is frozen stiff,
we celebrate rich harvest of our work,
giving and receiving gifts of our hearts,
then I will repair that frail broken bowl
so we can toast life and success for all.
No comments:
Post a Comment