Drinking Pain From a Fountain

The struggle of life is water to the soul. It’s taste is no indulgence. It’s abundance drowns and rots. An inevitable tide With an infinite, invisible guide. The body is built of it. The deepest mind feeds from it. The ignorant clutch it like a cane to excuse their stumbling. The threat of death is the breathe of life. To whine and wish for sympathy is to drink the dessert’s dust. To indulge you must give without inhibition. To enjoy you must appreciate the unsavory. Disdain for the daunted is the absolute ignorance of the elite. The ignorance of the elite is the absolute entertainment of the oppressed. The absolute achievement of existence is to respect the validity of all that exists. The struggle to accumulate fortune Is a forfeiture of freedom. Such a deep, stabbing pain For such a deeply stubborn man. For what do you haggle? Such a feverish, Indeed furious, Haggling you impose upon your already haggard heads. Want for want you barter. Disregarding your dreams For what rests in your pockets. Empowering yourselves with human frailty. In truth, fortune is formulated within. Each man hoarding his own passions. Leaving wealth a thing undefined. Those self-righteous, Accomplished types Who loathe the unsuccessful Savor an existence unrefined. For I am the dirt of your mountain, And I will be the rocks of your rubble. Homeless. Begging. Yet, craving only to be free, An occasional meal, And the air that I breathe. My fortune: Ultimately simplistic. Universally dismissed. Is peace, Knowing truly, That I sincerely exist.