Three Sons - Poem by Randy McClave
There were three sons, Abraham, Muhammad and Paul
Now these three sons stood very proud and tall,
These three sons were also each other's brothers
They had the same father, but birthed by different mothers.
Sadly these three sons loathed and despised each other
As though they were not blood, or each other's own brother,
They didn't like each other's customs, or their different belief
And each one believed, that they should be their brother's chief
There were three sons each one believed they were preferred
They each believed that their father spoke to them, the truest word,
Their siblings they also believed were not worthy of their father's praise
So, they each decided that they would hate each other, always.
Each son truly believed that their father loved them the most
And to each other, they would always make that brag and boast,
They did not believe that their father could love them all the same
Then when their father stopped talking; each other they did blame.
There were three brothers who fought for their father's love
But, he didn't want them to fight, his heart they all were part of,
He wanted each of the brothers just to turn the other cheek
And for their own truth and honesty, their soul they should seek.
So, the three brothers each took their own different roads
And through time and distance, they all ended up carrying different loads,
Then the brothers had children and they passed onto their eldest son
Their own beliefs and thoughts and jealousy, which they called religion.
These three bothers, who loved and always obeyed their father
Whatever he asked or commanded them to do, they did it without bother,
Now he gave each son certain laws which they all did dictate
The main laws of course for each, was not to ever murder or hate.
But, each son then decided to create their own extra laws
With their own certain beliefs and rules, and with and without flaws,
They wanted everyone to believe, that their father loved them more
Now the children of Abraham, Muhammad, and Paul are always at war.
Randy L. McClave
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