Fragility of Wealth

With life so precarious in every direction, perhaps a picture worth a thousand words may someday be all that’s left, and maybe a prose poem or two. (Image by Bilotta)

Fragility of Wealth
                    by Odin Roark

He had known riches,
This man wandering desolate landscapes,
Once so generous of harvest.

But now…

He had seen it coming,
It was but a matter of which dawn,
Which sundown
Which star-filled night
Would be the last.

Acceptance was hard.
Most everything was gone,
Leaving behind a barrenness,
Likely past any will to start over.
Nature was tired.

And…

He too was wearing down.
So much.
So fast.
It was only yesterday
That he lingered there,
Peering inside the darkened diner,
A favorite he so often visited.
The lingering image of its pink and green neon,
Now but broken glass,
Its always bright surroundings
Just another dark remnant of what once was.

Only the ghost of his friendly waitress remained.
Enamored with her focus, he used to tell her
As he read her philosophical scribbles
Just below her “Thank You” part of the breakfast check,
“You’re an idealist in a funeral parlor.”
But he looked forward to the always provocative thought
To help another twenty-four hour stretch of fear,
The ever-present rich man’s curse.

“Happy people are the only people, the rest are only human.”  Fullmer
“The supreme happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved.”  Hugo
And then there was the quote that brought him to where he was today.
“Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste
That they hurry past it.” Kierkegaard

He’d lost track of the miles covered,
But glancing down, incongruity stared back at him.
Why here?
Why this place?
Why a star fish?

This once deep-water testimony to life,
Reduced to a still life intransigence of purpose,
Insisted the man consider his own evolution.

So…

Why had man been made to challenge
The many storms and waves Nature had in store?
Had civilization just plain f**ked up?

Yeah…
Well…

He too would soon be dead,
With only his dapper suit
And plastic boutonniere
To die with.

Perplexed, he gazed down at the once alive creature.
How does such beautiful simplicity
Retain so much of its treasure?