Streams Of Death
The sun was up the azure sky,
The stream was crystal clear,
And Adam drank from Eden's brook
As did the panting deer;
Nine hundred years and more he drank
Till all his hair was white,
The waters were like streams of life
As pure as rays of light.
Into four streams the brook did split
Beyond the Lord's garden—
That earthly paradise sublime
Now lost to sons of men;
Of these streams which from Eden rose
One wound through lands of gold,
Through all the earth the others ran
As swift as kites they roll'd.
Both wild and free like winds that blow
These streams did Eden flee,
Discordant chords of roaring tunes,
Their songs of mirth and glee.
Sparkling and dazzling in the sun
They flowed to distant soil—
To virgin lands West, North, and South
Where life was marked by toil.
As men did spread about the earth
And diverse tongues they spake,
They ploughed the land, they baked their meals,
They searched for stream or lake;
To quench their thirst from age to age
From flowing streams they drank,
From chilling founts, from mountain springs
From stony wells they sank.
For in Canaan where Abram dwelt
That man whose faith was true,
He dug a well and drank from same
And gave his camels, too.
His son Jacob in Samaria
A springing well had he.
From which He drank, the Son of Man,
En route to Galilee.
In days of yore, a Golden Age,
When life was sweet relish,
In wooden boats, on flowing lakes,
The men would row for fish;
With pots of clay and dangling breasts
The women loved to go
Through narrow paths to village streams
Where children frolicked so.
A wondrous place the world did seem
When pure were sea and stream,
Like heaven's river flowing bright
Where drink winged cherubim;
This glassy sea when flowing down
Like drums and flutes will fife,
Whose drinkers never age or die
Her waters, streams of life.
But swift did come the machine age
With so much toxic waste,
That streams became so colorful
With pungent flavored taste;
That now in shining Africa
The sons of Ham by blood—
A myriad die from poisoned streams—
Who did survive the Flood.
The oil leaks from drilling rigs—
Ill omens do echo—
Have fouled marshlands and beaches near
The Gulf of Mexico;
A native Indian Houma tribe
Has greatly suffered ill
From this disaster caused by man—
The ocean oil spill.
Our quest for wealth— discontentment—
Has left us poorer men,
Enraged within and heartbroken,
Unthankful in our den;
Man’s wanton civilization
Has brought man woes untold,
That wild and marine lives face death:
Their toll no one has told.
Like all the gifts that Nature gives
To all humanity—
The streams we drink, the air we breathe—
For free were meant to be;
To now refine it costs so much
That water sells for gold
When more than half the earth is filled
With streams and seas untold.
If what goes round does come around
Is true as some folk say,
Then streams that round and round do go
Should bother men each day;
Since all must drink to stay alive—
Japheth and Shem and Ham;
Earth's flowing streams these three must keep
To save their lives from harm.
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