A God Called Money
- October 18, 2017
There is a great god called money
Who builds his palace on the grave of men
Thrones of honour on the bones of his sons
In his goblet flows the blood of his devotees
On his table scatters the skulls of his priests
He is the silent yearning in the hearts of the young
The secret worries in the eyes of the old
He is the chains belting the waist of giants
The pride in the sceptre of kings
A principality of hell
A deity of holy grounds
Kind without kindness
Hurts without hurting
The untameable love of things that glow
Makes the untutored hands of the boy fondle with the burning touch
The fanatic hunger for things so scarce
Makes the wise tucks his cloak of knowledge into the fire
Money kills those it heals
It chains those it frees
That is the only god I know
Worshiped by men of all religion
© Olatuja Oloyede
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