Say Your Grace

A Fiery Past: When man was close to the beast within, the fire in his belly demanded nothing less than a sacred offering.

The fire in the stomach,
Is as old as the hunter himself,
Mapping the jungle, relentlessly,
Hunting his prey,
The thrill of the chase,
Stoked by the fire in the belly,
The spear shall finds its mark,
The animal doesn’t die in vain,
It’s flesh shall feed a few good men,
Around the fire, they sing and dance,
Praise God for the succulent meat,
And in their gratitude,
The kill becomes a scared offering,
To the fiery spirit within.

The Gluttonous Present: these events aren’t a result of my overactive imagination, they occur in real time.

There is plenty to choose from,
Be it clothes, friends, the latest trends,
Or a need as basic as food,
One no longer has to hunt,
It comes wrapped in shiny, funky packages,
A few notes can buy some tasteless grub,
Tasteless, because the taste-buds are numb with choice,
An evening out implies frantic activity,
Movies, shopping, catching up,
In between non-stop chattering the mouths are stuffed,
The notion of thanking God for a decent meal is so passé,
It wouldn’t fit in with the chic setting,
To fold our hands in gratitude,
For the chicken legs we are about to bite in,
Maybe, it’s time we did just that,
And offered a word of thanks like our ancestors,
For the meal that went down our throat.