The Cause

(Money and your soul)

There is a cause worth fighting for, its name is Truth and Peace,
Not many care to join the fight, that would see suffering cease.
For this would mean compassion, from hearts grown hard and cold,
Many tales abound, of course, of those who reach for gold.

But gold she is a fickle maid, who does not serve men well,
She fractures Peace and Justice, and casts a wanton spell.
She grants a life of luxury, whilst others beg for crumbs,
The more she gives, the more she takes, she tallies well her sums.

But treasure rare alludes her flock, and they can’t reason why,
She fills their days with luxuries, they hear no children’s cry.
Your pain has naught to do with me, I only take what’s mine,
I drink from golden goblets, and on the best I dine.

I live in stately mansions, my gardener rakes the lawn,
I count my shares on Wall Street, I rarely watch the dawn.
The flowers of my garden, I ask not how they came,
The tender care that nurtures them, was never mine to claim.

Who tends them and who plants them, he is Creation’s son,
I meantime I count my sovereigns, King Midas I’ve become.
I send my servants to the store for food to fill my plate,
No soil I’ve tilled, no corn I’ve grown, no fish from river spate.

The woodsman to the tree he goes, the miner to the seam,
My comfort and my treasures, to such are but a dream.
But come the day when all is lost, I wonder where I’ll be,
Down pit shaft with my fellow men, and heroes of the sea?

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