The Death of Compassion IV: The Clown in the Circus

The Clown in the Circus...

How lovely, how wonderful it is, when brothers are living in harmony! Claimed the singer. So I say, how painful and disheartening, when brothers are estranged?! So divided among themselves, feasting on each other. Civilisation. Where brother eats behind the hedge and gets fat like baobab, while sister stands in the streets and gets thin like biltong! The author complains.

They don't know that they have each other, telling them leads to jeer and ridicule. The tomfoolery never ends. From the mountain they look at daily, hoping for superman and they reject using their power. Like dazed drunks on the way to the pit, they move, aptly and with precision. Each step nearing the cliff. They're happy with the destruction to befall them! Pull them back, they want to close their eyes and continue on the path to doom. 

I don't know who's worse. The clowns or the cheerleaders. At their own peril, their hands they clap and gloat at their oppression with indescribable pride and incurable filth of malicious defense. The "At least" mentality consumes them like fire burning on dry grass. They never see nor learn.

In the confessional, the 'mea maxima culpa!' becomes the usual mantra. The Clown in the cloth looks at them and laughs. By his word of mouth the says, 'in nomine patris et filli et spritus sanctus, I impart my blessing' while in his heart he scoffs. "We know Jesus fed 5000 people,  with me, 5000 of you will feed one man and you'll give me your belongings and follow me!" "Touch not my annointed", they sweat in defense. "Fools, God will not save you, embrace poverty." Your food I eat, your daughters I chew to the last bone and strand of hair. 

Pray the pain away, don't use your power to change your life. Discover it, and my religious enterprise becomes history. The Clown hides the truth. Ego te absolvo! I am only that clown, I cannot do anything for you, I'm only a shadow of myself. With nothing but a fake hope to make you keep going...

At banquet, the clown and uncle Sam feast. Grouching and chewing the finest of steak. Cheers Uncle Sam! Cheers Clown! Under the table, spittle and excessive vomit become the rain for the house or circusgoers! God stares in silence, for they are taught, 'He will respond to you in the next life! Endure!' Cheers Uncle Sam, Cheers Clown! 

Circusgoers are divided on what is not theirs and their own has been discarded in the pit, eroded by fire, and the chaff carried by the wind! They can't trace it. What's there to do!? Fight for the crumbs and spittle and cheer on at their miseries! 

God gave man power

Man refuses to use it 

He wants to use God to do what he can! 

Who's worse, uncle Sam, the Clown and House? 

The circus continues, it never ends...

Mutsawashe 

Ifechukwu