The Picture:

Long and long ago,

And today,

And tomorrow,

There was/is a man,

A thinking man, with eyes and heart,

And this man went to a special place.

Lots of people said that if you went

To this special place you had to make time

To look at a very special picture. 

So many people he knew had said

That it was a wonder,

He thought that he had better make sure to go and see it,

So he did.

 

He stared and stood,

And stood and stared at it,

And explored his mind and heart.

Then he went for a little stroll

And looked at other stuff,

Most of which he liked.

After a bit he went back to the special picture

And it was still small and rather insignificant,

And it did nothing for him.

When he went back to where he lived

People asked if he had been to see

The special picture,

And he said he had and

That he didn’t like it and

Did not honestly

Understand what all the fuss was about. 

People he knew, who loved the picture,

Appeared to think he was somewhat of a Philistine

Because he didn’t like it,

But he didn’t care,

Possibly because he was one,

And whenever he went back to the special place,

He didn’t waste time looking at it again.

The years rolled by and the man,

As is the way of things,

If you are fortunate,

Got older. 

He accrued some wisdom,

Changed his taste in what he liked

And evolved as a person. 

He still did not like the picture, though 

He liked it even less when he read

That it had been valued at US$760 million. 

It was both obscene and absurd!

A little later the man was watching the television,

Something he did not often do,

And saw a programme about women and children

Living in a far away land where there was a war,

And they were being killed and brutalised,

And many were starving to death.

The man then saw another special picture,

A picture of a boy who looked as though

He had just been released from a German Nazi death camp.

His situation was truly desperate and

The thinking, feeling man wept

At what confronted his soul.

He ran an organisation where he was lucky enough

To spend his time with caring people,

And they clubbed money and ideas together,

And raised funds and awareness in all sort of ways

To try to help these women and children.

And the man realised that through the

Long and exhilarating years of life,

As well as a joyous heart,

He had become enraged.

He knew, too, what a hypocrite he was. 

He was enraged that one child,

One individual,

One incredibly complex,

Unique being with

The potential to do things that no other person could,

Or think things that no other person had,

Or see the world in ways that nobody else did,

Was going to starve to death for lack of money

To supply him with the very most basic needs of life,

Food, water, shelter and, as needed, medication.

And he realised there was this blight,

An obscenity sitting on his heart,

Pecking like a gorging vulture,

That a picture he didn’t like was valued by humanity

At hundreds of millions of dollars more

Than the never before produced,

Never again to be reproduced,

Miracle of a human life

Who could be saved with a couple of dollars.

And he could not square the values

With the love and compassion

He often saw in those around him,

But somehow it must be so. 

He, and they, lived in a world

Where things were valued

More than people. 

And then he started to think about

How much animals were valued

Compared to things. 

And again he wept.

As to his hypocrisy, it became obvious.

He gave money monthly to various charities

And worked often in his organisation

To support the vulnerable.

Then he went to the pub and had a drink,

Perhaps bought a take-away and drove

His gas guzzling car back to his well

Heated house where regularly he threw away

Food which had gone off because unused.

He knew that as long as this was so

He remained a hypocrite.

How did his,

How did humanity’s soul

Leap the tracks and end up 

On a path so dark,

Wanting and valuing things,

But when considering people as things,

Ascribing little to no value? 

Humanity talks a good heart and soul

But many ascribe value with little use of either.

And he continued to be burning with rage,

And fighting to touch hollow hearts

Filled with dollars,

Coated with a thin veneer of

Love, compassion and empathy,

Including his own.

And so he loved,

And so he raged,

As he tried

And failed

And tried

And failed

When he stops trying, the hypocrisy will have won,

So he prays for his love and rage to burn bright,

And to help him find a way to ignite

Love and rage

In others.

To value the right picture.