My Scrolls

The End-time Whitebait of The Seas (12.9.13)

“The whitebait of the seas is a delicacy to the palate of man.

The whitebait of the seas spawn up the rivers on a rising tide,

                                         seek the reeds,

                                         progress the cycle which preserves their being.

The whitebait of the seas travel in their shoals.

                                         are netted in their shoals,

                                         are vanquished in their shoals.

The whitebait of the seas are pressured by the catch of man,

                                         are pressured by the value ascribed by man,

                                         are pressured by diminishing resources within the tidal reach.

The whitebait of the seas battle the ebb and flow in the presence of rapacious feeders,

                                         run the gauntlet of the river banks where the current weakens,

                                         seek the clearest waters when mud has not contaminated.

The whitebait of the seas cannot sustain their harvesting –

                                     in the season set for placing eggs upon the reeds where the tide has reach.

The whitebait of the seas are not a necessary adjunct to the diet of man.

The whitebait of the seas are not essential to be battered on the platters of the rich and careless,

                                         do not deserve to be stripped and weighed for the naming by the few accustomed to their luxury,

                                         do not deserve to be driven to extinction by the greed and tastelessness of man,

                                         do not deserve to have their way of life mopped up by the few for serving up to the unappreciative:

                                                                    of the beauty of the functioning of what is being placed within their mouths.

So the few constrain the many,

       so the few restrict rebirth,

       so the few harvest for the purse,

       so the few pursue the remnants –

                              of that once used to fertilize the gardens near the river mouths.

So the few boast of their endeavours,

                   take all that they can catch,

                   seize upon the chance to wrest the very last as some struggle to avoid the nets.

So the shoals,

              still not seen as a misnomer,

                            mostly come in threes and fours as individuals are counted on the fingers of one hand,

              still do not dishearten those addicted to their capture.

Yet still the garners of the riverbanks wait in expectation of a haul,

                                                            in the daylight hours when the tide is on the rise,

                                                            in the quest for profit from which used to be a hobby.

So is destroyed the inheritance of a nation:

       as the proceeds of the raping of the river banks is squandered on the frivolous;

                   that which exists nowhere else on earth;

                   that which is not invested in the future;

                   that which has to dredge up memories of how it once appeared for the benefit of man.

Oh that the greed of man could be tempered by supply,

                                         could be tempered with replenishment,

                                         could be tempered by conserving,

                                         could be tempered by the wisdom necessary to know when enough suffices in the land of plenty.

The land of plenty –

                   placed in the distant seas,

                                  where penguins paddle to attend their nests,

                                  where the dolphins frolic in enjoyment,

                                  where the seals breed in peace upon the rocks,

                                  where the whales display their majesty to visitors from afar,

                                  where the seabirds with their wingspans soar – 

                                                                         to carry their pickings to the open mouths.

So the big and powerful grab attention while the midgets succumb to ravishing –

                                       in the twilight of their being away from the supervision of the visitors.”


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