Fatima would come and sit on my lap; my worries suspended for that valuable moment.

I was surging to the verge
of diverging from my urge;
my relentless, hot desire
to merge and to acquire.

Boardrooms throbbed with savage trade,
tickers flashed, decisions made;
spreadsheets hissed a neon choir,
fueling bids that edged up higher.

Deadlines pounded like a drum,
steel-heeled seconds shouting “Run!”
Bonuses like fireworks burst—
every spark outraced a thirst.

Then one dawn beyond the pane
poured its gold across the train;
corporate towers shrank in size,
dwarfed by honest eastern skies.

I stepped out, let ledgers fade,
wore the silence like new shade;
shares dissolved in morning mist,
simple joys began to list:

sparrow song and cedar scent,
bread and rain in soft ascent;
sunlit tea, my daughter’s smile—
riches paced at walking style.

Now the clock no longer fires
up those hollow, frantic wires;
I have the urge nor desire
to merge, or to acquire.


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