Heartbreak of Blasphemy (a parable mashup)

 --
          There was not much rejoicing in his father's house when the Prodigal returned home from his wild years in the big city. His was a hard-working, strict family and many hopes pinned on him as firstborn had been dashed-- or, to some moralizing, judgemental eyes, shamefully corrupted.
           He was given the chance to redeem himself by working shoulder-to-shoulder with the fieldhands. On his first day out, during the noontime rest, he found an ancient olive tree he would climb as a child, and, at its root, buried two silver Talents he had salvaged when he realized he had no alternative but to tuck tail and return home to face the consequences-- whatever those might actually be.
           He could not keep up with the work. Never strong to begin with, the years of dissipation had sickened and weakened him further. The laborers-- embittered by long indentures to a stingy, ambitious man-- found a sweet measure of revenge in relentlessly mocking their lord and master's weakling son.
           In the end, he found his place among the house help-- mostly working with the women in the kitchen. Awkwardly at first, but with developing assurance and the growing satisfaction in discovering a sense of purpose, he ended up finding no task so simple or menial he could not enjoy applying whatever measure of skill he could bring to its careful execution...
   
         (...to be continued?)

Terminal Islander

 --
what manner of support is there to be begged
from the transactional family estate of late capitalism

that feeds off the disaster
experiment in collapsed colonial paradise
singing oh! my heart's devotion (oh! dembow-shun)
still unheard against a raging flood?

reaching end of shelf life
all efforts evidence examples crushed
discarded ashes to ashes in our dumpster fire?

is this a tightrope o una cuerda muy muy floja
sobre la cual Karl Wallenda und Ich
perdemos el balance?
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