My Scrolls

The Love of Money (11.2.11)

“Money is the creation of man,

               is his token of exchange,

               is his deeming of set values,

               is of worth only while trust is unimpeded,

               is for the holding only when trust is likely to continue,

               is of use only if it can be exchanged.

Money has a value when with the backing of gold,

Money has a value when governments do not defraud the saver for the benefit of taxes,

Money has a value in times of stable prices,

Money has a value when coins retain their value of exchange,

Money has a value as citizens are honest,

Money has a value,

                         as a store of constant wealth,

                                                when the coinage of the day purchases the goods of yesteryear.

Money loses its value through the knavishness of man in discovering how legally to rob.

Money loses its value through the knavishness of governments in discovering the wealth within the printing press.

Money loses its value within the spectre of inflation.

Money loses its value with the loss of ability to purchase that which it once could do.

Money loses its value in the pensions of the elderly and the infirm.

Money loses its value as wages struggle to keep up.

So the money of the world chases the highest offer,

                                            chases the roguish promise,

                                            chases the filling of the coffers before the cut and run.

So the money of the world shies from the slightest risk,

                                            seeks safe haven for the gains,

                                            seeks public dispersal of the losses.

So the money of the world accrues in offshore accounts in distant lands of secrecy.

So the money of the world accrues to the unjust with their dark transactions,

                                            accrues to the wealthy as a total they can no longer count,

                                            accrues in vaults on paper which is not worth a match,

                                            accrues as it is cycled in circles round and round,

                                            accrues to the vultures of the vestiges who leave nothing on the bones,

                                                                                                      nothing in the shell,

                                                                                                      nothing in the vault:

                                                                             but a wave of broken promises which are dumped upon the tearful. 

So the rich are the richer.

So the poor are the poorer.

So the foolish are the wiser.

So the blind begin to see.

So the deaf begin to listen.

So the dumb begin to question.


      The conquistadores of the century ride off to their bolt-holes with their bags of plunder gone before.

Such as these,

                   who have no scruples,

           need a change wrought upon their soul if they are not to stand,

                                                                                         within the courts of justice,

                                                                  before a great white throne –

                                                                                         whereon sits He who holds the keys to hell.”


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