What's in a thing?
Is it truly ours,
something we can brand?
Tell me did you make it sir?
No? Oh, you think gold sufficed.
Is the gold really yours,
do you claim it as your due?
Oh, you perspired in misery,
attaining it by your blood.
Perhaps I should let that stand,
ignoring the obvious question
Shall we take another look,
wondering who made your flesh,
which flesh you make to suffer,
lusting after things you did not form
things that are yours by formality
which things you can't keep
in the end sacrificing all
replacing things with a narrow cell
Enough of that!
You get the point,
or so I'd hope.
Where, when you can't rebuild your skin
starting from dirt and giving it life
(you might replicate it in time
but that's not the same
any idiot knows that)
so where in life do you stake your claim
grabbing a hold of it
this or that
placing it before you as a god
letting your covetous heart worship it
be it a car
or a yacht?
If you lost all tomorrow
how hard would you grieve?
I need not know the truth
even if I did it would be no good to you
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