POSTED 02/01/2018 16:03
You can hear the market noise
And in the very midst detect that voice.
Stories available are all a tragedy.
At the door knocks Vanity.
A guest unbidden is at the door
Beckoning the victim of want to venture.
"Go away!" You bark at it
And curse him with no regret.
He's passing by your block again
His rich perfume heralds him
The beast within
That barked yesterday is going lame.
Your needs attends you
Weeping in your empty teacup
You sip and spew
And vow to keep your door locked up.
Life turns out to be a guitar on one string
And circumstances have changed the lyric of all that you sing.
Midnight and you are nursing a wailing stomach
Ears intently poised to hear the guest's knock.
You unlock the bolt and let the door ajar.
He turns a friend that was a stranger.
You kiss his brow and apologize
But man is here for business. He tells you the price.
There is no going back. You've got wheat, oil and silver
Your eyes wide open, you can now see
You should have waited in hunger
And hummed on "best beer is for the thirsty."
Your joy is taken and Vanity cares not a little.
Your peace is wrested with cold hands.
Frustration ends it with whispers most subtle
and calls the crowd proudly saying "there the fool hangs"
Vanity breaks not through the door
Nor steals through the window.
Its wares are beauteous when one is poor
And unwise to wait a little longer in hope.
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