Money is better than barter
Money is better than share
Money takes you further than you dare
Though hands, not money built my walls
Hands put together materials to paint my hall
Metals I dug came before all.
I fell in love with my money
Though the kitchen fire was lit by my honey
Her hands weaved into mine ever-ready
My family was all of four
For our morning bread, my wife rolled the nightly dough
By mid-morning I was always rolling in dough.
My pockets filled with money
Heart heaving heavy with pleasure
But my real heart had slipped into my belly
Pick pockets saw my rich resources
Bankers saw my various bulges
All overlooked my face coloured by insatiable desires.
Hope is real not just a hypothesis
Family is special but not essential
Beyond my reach was whomsoever I thought special
My hands guide me to the alchemist's hole
To unearth facts I crawl into their safe-hole
Here my soul and heart turned to pure gold.
Pickpockets, bankers, wife and relatives all lived till very old
My money was in their hold
They forgot me eventually but not too soon
I came one day as a mendicant to their door
They were ready for an ordinary life like before
Their look of wantonness I had to ignore.
I will lie to be buried not burnt
I will not rise again penny-wise
With me I will entomb money-culture's vice.
Copyright © Vidya Raghunathan | Year Posted 2018