Money

Money has no color, whether it came from Black, White, Asian or any other tribesman, a dollar is a dollar, not more or less. Money doesn’t smell, therefore, it weighs the same, whether it comes from marijuana dealer’s pocket or holy temple’s offering basket. Money doesn’t have a heart, that’s why its size is the same whether it was earned with sweat and tears or swindler’s easily made filthy lucre. Money doesn’t have a face, whether it came from hypocrites, wicked or honest wage earners, they circulate in the market place without distinctions. Money doesn’t have eyes, that’s why if it was pulled out from a brand-named hand bag with slender fingers or a old beaten purse with stiffened fingers, they dance together hand in hand. Money, though, is a quantity but not a quality, money from wealthy ones always shines regardless how they were made, while money from poor are treated contemptuously; why is that so? Probably, money invented by men has now become an uncontrollable monster, and goes, to make a new myth, leading this corrupted world. Although money is a quantity, since the time when money controls men, the size of money became a standard and the weight of the money became a status, virtue and dignity. And now, after men have accepted the paradox of money as a course of nature, it became impossible, even with collateral, to go against the current of the river. Rather, for weak or strong, bad or good, or even dead or alive, it flows only downward pushed by the rushing water.