Sunday, June 13, 2010

It's Mine, All Mine.


"Money makes the world go around,
The world go around,
The world go around...
That clinking clanking sound..."*

~ ~ ~

You wouldn't think in this Peaceful Kingdom that there would be any bitterness, or anger, or selfishness. Everyone had what they wanted, need, and there was a harmony in the way things seemed to work. I loved walking the streets during the day watching the people work at their trades, and the laughing, and sense of fun here.

On a perfectly fine morning as I was walking down one of the main pathways, passing all the beautifully decorated and freshly painted houses, I came upon an odd, and out of place small castle-like home. It was drab, and gray, without color or warmth. I asked who lived there, and someone said it was The Miser. That struck me as strange. People had all they needed and wanted and in their midst was a miser? I climbed up to the top of a neighboring house and saw an old man sitting in a small battlement of the Miser's house. His back was to the street, and I saw him clasping a large gold pentacle tightly to his body, and another one sitting upon a crown he wore, and two others beneath his feet. He had the most unfriendly countenance of anyone I'd seen here. He refused to look at anyone or anything around him, and was sitting atop his riches, guarding them so nobody would take anything from him. I thought it would be very unlikely that anyone would, let alone anyone could, since his house was a fortress, locked to the outside world.

As I walked away from his unfriendly world, I was troubled. How did anyone here in this place grow to be so bitter? But then there were all kinds of folk in any given place wasn't there?

[first impression] oh dear; not at all a happy card. Segregation lives here; on who is locked in. He actually reminded me of Hamlet's father for some reason. He was ghostly; just a shadow of a man now. He and all that was his was drained of the color of this Earth kingdom. He appeared tattered, but not because he was poor financially, but rather because he was bereft of spirit. He was the epitome of anger, born of greed. All his riches didn't make a bit of difference. He would never been happy.

*song for the Four of Pentacles: Money, Money, Money from Cabaret

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