For everything else . . .

I watched them fight, and push, and push, and fight

To try and get that advantage, get to that grail first of all,

To get their hands on the latest, the smartest, the most desirable.

And I simply wondered why.

Why?

Does the possession of silver, of gold, of technology,

Of clothes with a label, or a bag of a certain colour,

Or a car of a certain make,

Mean that life is better, more enjoyable, in some definable way

More satisfying?

I don’t think so.

I cannot feel the wind of gold weaving through my hair, 

It does not mingle with the silver sunlight, nor with

The gentle caress of the moon in a star studded sky.

The make of shoes is of no account when walking

Barefoot

On the beach at dusk, kicking the sand and the sea.

The colour of the bag does not add anything to the

Scent of the pines that I walk beneath.

No earthly purchase can bring the scent of the heather

And the peated flowing water to that

Centrally heated designer flat in that centrally heated

Designer city.

For me, I would rather ride the wind

And surf the sun that casts a golden eye

Upon the earth below, and smiles, for sometimes,

Just sometimes, it is good.

There are things that money cannot buy, and 

They are the things that measure the success and pace

Of real life.

(c) 2ndwitch, 12/01/11