Christopher Haywood Poet Rhyme

Double-Edge Sword Part 1 The Fever of More

In the quest for what is "more," a concept vast and deep,
A universe of wanting, from which we laugh and weep.
It is the second helping, the dawn after the night,
The ever-present yearning for a more brilliant light.

It’s the whisper of ambition, the shout of endless greed,
The planting of a forest from a single, tiny seed.
"More" can be the knowledge in scrolls of parchment bloomed,
The architect's bold vision, from ancient wisdom groomed.

It is the steady building of a shelter from the storm,
A harvest’s golden bounty, to keep a family warm.
It is the tinkerer's candle, a drive to innovate,
To push beyond the boundaries and seal a better fate.

But in the brain's deep pathways, a different tale is told,
A story of desire, that's powerful and old.
With every gain and getting, a flash of golden light,
A chemical reward that burns away the night.

The mind is then conditioned, it seeks the thrill anew,
And "enough" becomes a phantom, forever out of view.
And so the ruin follows, on this relentless quest,
When "more" becomes a fever, a sickness in the breast.

The miser counts his treasure, his knuckles pale with fear,
The glutton feasts to bursting, but satisfaction's never near.
It is a hollow hunger, a chasm in the soul,
That swallows joy and contentment, and takes a heavy toll.

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