Eschatalogica
“What I’ve taken can’t be broken, I will never see a finish;
What I’ve reached won’t fall away—I will never see it die,
I can grab all that I want now, it’s the man who hoards that wins it
Maybe if I keep on grabbing, I won’t see His weeping eyes.
Haul, and hoard, and grab another! pile my junk so high before me,
Let me make a god to worship, let me bow before my pile;
May the stream of wealth unending drown me in my happy hoarding,
Let me burn out like a candle and ignore you for awhile.”
Foolish man, so blindly seizing all the wealth that he can find;
Wealth of fools that only hastens his own march of poverty;
He would not wait for what is lasting; he has chosen to be blind,
Now he clutches straw, ignoring the Crown of Life he will not see.
from the river Beautiful, Chapter 2: the last dove’s flight
Image generated by Adobe Firefly.
“We really must understand that the lust for affluence in contemporary society is psychotic. It is psychotic because it has completely lost touch with reality. We crave things we neither need nor enjoy. ‘We buy things we do not want to impress people we do not like.’ ...It is time to awaken to the fact that conformity to a sick society is to be sick.”
