04 Mar 2016 – Sonnet

Contentment is a gift the simple prize,
sunshades to spare the heart from being burned
by all the market offers to our eyes
to siphon off the dust our labors earn.
Contentment is a coin no one can steal,
a hidden spring that never will run dry,
beyond the reach of grasping merchant’s deals,
a medicine no wealth can ever buy.
An agitated ocean pours itself
in goblets for a toast to foolish tastes –
a barkeep noting well his victim’s wealth,
with time enough and spare to lay them waste.
Were you to drink the contents of the sea
that demon thirst will never set you free.