GREEDY-GUTS-GOBBLER KING OF NO-THING

Those that take more
Than their share
May soon find
To their despair
That all they have
Grasped is empty air.

What filled their hands
Is not gold, but only
Ephemeral sand;
And as it falls and filters
Through their fingers
It leaves behind
No glimmer
And no magic.

All that is left is
(and this is really tragic)
Is what’s in them-
In their very hearts -.
After all their riches
Are drained?
And that, of course,
Is nothing.
Nothing
And more
Nothing.

(except maybe that elusive
taste/stench/belch
of stale and soured air.)


Manuela Cardiga