The Gilded Cage

A completely edited version of an old poem (Wealth Untold) I wrote a few years back.

The wealth untold, a gilded cage, Where strength of mind must engage. To feel its power, a tempting stage, Yet danger lurks on every page.
For power breeds an inflated view, And weakens the spirit, it's sadly true. The wealthy may think rules subdue The common soul, but not the few.

The wealth untold, a siren's call, To feel like gods, to stand up tall. A million deals, both big and small, A mind to risk it, lose it all. To be the myth, beyond recall, Yet losing touch, as shadows fall. The real world fades, beyond the wall, Where gold's the compass, to stand tall.

The past grows dim, a distant haze, Old struggles lost in fortune's maze. The future gleams, a tempting blaze, Where chance, a game the rich man plays. Attached to joy, in countless ways,
Wealth whispers, "Invincible you stand," And luck proclaims, "This fortune's grand," And power insists, "There is no end," But time's swift current, all must bend. To dust we turn, on this we can depend.

True wealth is found in open hand, To lift the needy in the land. True luck accepts, understands, That greed will blind, like shifting sands.
True power serves, at love's command, To give to others, close at hand. In kindness shared, and hope's sweet brand, We leave but bones, in this, all are the same.

09/02/2024