The Path of the Banker

In endless rows of ticking screens, Where numbers dance and cold light gleams, He spent his days in hollowed time, His heart untouched, his soul confined. Contracts signed with vacant eyes, Chasing wealth beneath gray skies. The clink of coins, the shuffle of files, Left no joy, no genuine smiles. Then one day, a scent of bread, A baker’s voice, a warmth it spread. The crackling crust, the simple cheer, Brought back a life he’d once held dear. Not in ledgers, nor in gold, But in the stories hands once told. The baker’s laugh, a kindled spark, Lit his way out of the dark. He left the desk, the rows, the grind, For something real for peace of mind. He found the truth in acts so small: That kindness builds where riches fall. For life is more than balance sheets, It’s in the warmth of those we meet. The banker’s tale, a lesson clear True wealth is found when hearts draw near.