The Prodigal Son

The Prodigal Son
By Mark Spencer

With seven billion on this earth,
Each different from the next,
There are certain paradigms
That leave me quite perplexed.

You recall the Prodigal Son
Who wandered far from home?
He left his father's house behind,
And into hell...he roamed.

He squandered his inheritance,
Until it was no more.
But money couldn't buy the joy,
That he had known before.

And then one day, with lessons learned,
And nothing in his sack,
He headed for his father's house,
In hopes he'd take him back.

And that's exactly what he did,
With great celebration.
And all, within the father's house,
Joined the jubilation.

All, that is, save for his brother,
For anger filled his heart.
No feast had been prepared for him,
Nor did he once depart.

But that son, who had wandered off,
And squandered everything,
Was welcomed home with open arms,
And treated like a king!

Resentment is a common thing,
Among the human race,
When one works harder than the next,
But earns no higher place.

Cain tilled the land and brought forth crops,
With the sweat from his brow.
He sacrificed that sweat to God,
While Able killed a cow.

The Lord will choose whom He will choose,
Regardless of our deeds.
Competition is what drove Cain
When he planted his seeds.

And everywhere upon the earth,
Man struggles against man.
Competing for some sacred prize,
But is this our Lord's plan?

We want to stand out from the crowd,
But what does this goal say,
Of our opinion of the crowd?
Such dreams only betray,

The selfish nature of the heart,
Within the heaving breast,
Of one who only seeks to win,
Some meaningless contest.

Some think Allah has chosen sides,
And those who disagree,
Will be destroyed for doing so
Within a fiery sea.

The one who follows our Lord's light,
Seeks his own salvation.
And God will smite his enemies,
With His Tribulations.

They say the wicked will be damned,
For that is what they've earned.
But there's a question in my mind,
Whose answer must be learned.

If one like Hitler should be damned,
For murdering millions,
What should be done to those who wish
Damnation on billions?

Life is not a competition,
And everyone is lost.
We're prodigal sons and daughters,
Who do not know the cost,

Of our competitive nature,
With things we hope to gain.
But if our brothers pay the price,
We're no better than Cain.