The world drinks conflict
Like gasoline. We are growth vehicles
Powered by internal combustion.
Survival of the fittest manifold -
For all the world’s
A stage recursive,
The same show playing
Every level down:
Fight! Fight to the death
Enfolded into every scene.
The produce aisle’s a plentiful illusion
If you miss the mirrors.
Nothing gets more valuable by duplication.
Our money’s on the finite,
Where every gain comes from
Some other sucker’s loss.
The balance sheet upheld
By vicious grip,
Cancelling every one to
Zero. Some game,
this life, this war,
this marketplace.
But You offered me free lunch.
You prepared a meal for two or three,
And it fed a table of five thousand,
Each one your first and honored guest.
You broke the bread
and each half formed the whole entire;
The math breaks down,
But everything adds up.
Consumers our whole lives,
We finally partook of Your abundance,
As our many-personed host bid us eat.
Favoritism strikes most people as a vice,
As if preservation governs
Love like energy.
You call me the Beloved
As you call all Your children,
Yet with what joy my heart leaps
To hear those words!