To become wealthy you need to realize your riches.

Community was forced to be scattered.

Men and women were forced apart.

To do anything it MUST be done together.

Our aunts,uncles, and grannies taught us that. 

Yet somehow we lost the plot.

Not just figuratively.

The ones who were silent worked away no longer slaves.

Only loudest with things they made.

Things they gave. We took for granted.

Things done together and for each other, exchanged.

Back yards, ramblings, all the dinners.

Things change for greed. 

Wealth isn’t numbers they tried to say.

Land. A home. Love without sound. Music that thinks, feels, and lives.

Ever growing.

Why want pulp and dye when you can have Earth?

God, Spirit, Universe called it nourishment.

Maybe being silent let you hear the plan.

The darkest and dreariest times make for green pastures.

Community gathered abundance.

Fake prophets for profits promised everything and delivered nothing.

Houses with yards and fences once there to come now severed.

But you always have to die to live on.