Beans in a Jar

[I must be the slowest writer anywhere between here and the Third Galaxy. I've been working on this bit of a trifle ever since the first lines popped out of my mouth some thirty years ago and just spent some time this morning once again reworking it only to find that I posted an earlier version not all that long ago. Well, I'm not going to have any more time today to write anything else as I have to go into town and help my daughter move. It would seem that "beans" should be understood here to also mean human beings.]

I dare you to take a good look at
the "beans" I have in this jar.
I bought them last night from a madman
I met in a stinky old bar.

He swore they were sure good for something,
but I didn't quite catch what it was
he screamed like a dying folk singer
as he was carried away by a flood
of crazy young college drinkers
who broke down the barroom door,
dragged him by his feet out into the street
and left the jar on the floor

I want you to come a bit closer
and examine what's here in this jar
I'm pretty sure that you will see
just what these "beans" really are.
There were three billion "beans" when I got them
and now there are three billion more.

Pretty soon, the jar will break
and spill all the "beans" on the floor.
What will happen then to the "beans"?
Will they just lie there till they all rot up?
Or will somebody suddenly come
and suddenly gather them up,
sort them and put them in a new jar
far better than the one before?

I want you to come yet closer
and press your ear to the jar
I want you to hear the sounds of a fear
which is near and not far,
a fear which mutates to hate --
a hate which is felt more than seen.

Did you know that the things that you do
can often come back and haunt you?