There are three streams that run through the theme of life:
One stream is that of screams, angry and bitter, filled
With litter of dogmatism, condemnation, exclusivism, alienation
And rank narcissism; deadly stream that threatens trireme
Making course down such treacherous waters hotter than hell.
There is the second stream that slowly flows nowhere, just
Here and there and back to begin again; and every boat
That floats upon its placid waters coats itself with cloaks
So no shore is seen, whether clean or mean, to unsettle
Any with many truths unfurled, unbound from world around.
There is the third stream, flowing with the dream of God,
Pure and clear, and sure to steer in right-straight course
To heavenly pier, and no ship on her angel-water will veer
Off course by force or choice, for decision has been made
To forgo derision, to refuse the bait of hate, to satiate
In evil their lust, to break trust for crust of cold gold.
So flow three streams through our world as chance winds blow,
And each must know and show which stream they will sail:
Whether the first, where minds are blind, canker of anger;
Or the second, where eyes do not see, and ears do not hear;
Or the third, where peace abounds, and life sounds with joy,
And lease of life is freely given, free of all of the world,
And every care and possession hurled like wretched abomination.
Three Streams Flow…