Wheel Within Time

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Money is the ruler; pen and pencil merely draw the lines. Yet money can erase every scale, while our boxes stay empty.

Money, you are like a wheel,
I move in you, bound by feel.
Without you, I fade to none,
Like a shadow without sun.

Money, why you love me not?
I am poor, by fate forgot.
I write dreams in silent night,
Yet earn nothing from my light.

In rich halls your bright voice rings,
Crowns are bought like common things.
In poor streets your absence cries,
Hope grows thin and slowly dies.

I am just a poet bare,
With empty hands and heavy care.
Words I weave like threads of gold,
Yet my hunger stays untold.

We both spin like leaves in air,
Turned by time with silent care.
Some rise high on golden spokes,
Some are crushed beneath your yokes.

Names and ranks the world assigns,
Measured all in coins and signs.
Man is weighed by what he owns,
Not by heart or silent groans.

Still I ask beneath the sky,
Must a dreamer live and die?
Is my worth in coins alone,
Or in seeds of thought I've sown?

Time decides our path and pace,
Lifts or drops us in the race.
Kings and beggars share one end,
Dust to dust, no coin to spend.

Like a wheel that slows its round,
We fall soft without a sound.
When time sleeps and motion dies,
All turns still beneath the skies.

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