Powerless to stop one's faculties turning against oneself
Injured by one's own mind
Slain by the self
Victim of the invisible hand of man
Such is waste
Wanton is the expense
How can one so mighty
Acquiesce to exist in such self-pitying depths?
Poverty is as real as the
Figment that festers in the soul
And grow like choking weeds
And manifest in flesh and bone
Pronouncements prove empty while
Vestments deceive in light of day
Seek riches beyond eye's sight, and
Store treasures that transcend the ages
He searches but refuses to find
And when he does, denies all knowledge of
Its existence
He looks in but does not enter
The joys of creation and procreation
The fullness of bounty from the harvest
The glitter of trinkets and tokens gathered
Such sights beholden beyond the window
He smiles, wishing these were his
Ignoring the Door that lies ajar
The heart that repeneth not
Consigns itself to hell
Yet hope springs eternal
For the one who chooseth to see
Desireth not, and it shall be given
Hankereth not, and thou shalt receive;
Blesseth not, and thou shalt meet th'impending curse
Trusteth not, and thou shalt liveth a life of regret
