We wonder about whether to pursue the gold, giv’n to many of us as our birthright.
What of the cost, where ought we place it for safekeeping?
Sometimes wisdom begs, shouldn’t we be satisfied with silver?
Eureka! I thought this morning so loud you surely heard me.
Is the gold we claim our own? Increasingly we learn…it’s all somebody else’s alloy. An alchemist had been before us. Pouring trickery, then pulling heartstrings.
I, myself, thank the illusionist for that sweetest Summer. Warm, golden, nothing but refreshing theory. I laugh now and see the moving, invisible hand.
Take we back our minds and hearts. Go forth to the drivers seat, the miner’s pick-ax in hand. Seek silver!