Poem: Currency

This entire society is built
On the premise that your value
Is only as high as your income
What a load of shit
Can money quantify the feeling
Of sand running through your fingers on a hot day?
Or of birds singing you to peaceful wakefulness in the
morning?
Can your income tell your mother, father, siblings
How much you love and cherish them?

What made the world revolve around a currency
That lives beyond reality?
Can these plastic bills tell you
How much your friends look forward to having that cup of coffee with you?
Or why your dog wags his tail so vehemently when you are near?
Life is not about money
Or income
Or productivity

Life is about experience
Seeing your partner with a smile when you surprise them just because
With a homemade cake, or maybe even a storebought one
It’s about visiting your church, or synagogue, or quiet place of peacefulness
And experiencing the spiritual awakening that makes your soul vibrate
Each breath you take is one that cannot be purchased
Each step you take is not one that can ever be refunded
There is no going back on the day

Money, currency, finances, gold
These limited and frivolous concepts can buy things
But they can also destroy a person from within
Ever searching for more, more, more
Yet struggling to make ends meet
Fairness is not considered in the world of currency
Only how much you can make, and
How much you can put into someone else’s pocket

Enough
Fill the wallet of your spirit with
Joyful cups of tea and
The feeling of a cat’s fur on your hand and
The warmth of the sun on your skin and
How you feel when someone smiles at you when you’re having a bad day
And stop basing your own value
On the numbers in your bank account


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