You've arrived, poised, at the summit
by Kevin Patrick
when years of labour and sacrifice
have earned you professional achievements
to rise in your office, McMansion,10 acre golf course,
or the country you own in stocks and dividends.
and you look over these devises, and bask
in triumph and tell yourself in jubilation
'the world is yours'
But then your mountain stirs, untangling limbs
and tightens granite hands on your throat
trees laugh at you in their ancient tongues
as forest march, on the bedrock of cities
blue skies inhale the air and screams
throwing you into the oceans palms
and bury you into the depths so deep
you drown before you swim
You've arrived, heir to your oblivion
to learn the prize for all your treasures
was just the debt of golds mirage.
leading the race and claiming the castle
was all made of sand that quietly crumbled
and flag of conquest buried in ruin
earth laughs at her favorite fool and says
'the world owns you'