The Reckoning
by Theodore Roethke
All profits disappear: the gain
Of ease, the hoarded, secret sum;
And now grim digits of old pain
Return to litter up our home.
We hunt the cause of ruin, add,
Subtract, and put ourselves in pawn;
For all our scratching on the pad,
We cannot trace the error down.
What we are seeking is a fare
One way, a chance to be secure:
The lack that keeps us what we are,
The penny that usurps the poor.
3 comments:
wanting knowledge
I am in line with your post but all I can think to say at this moment is that "7 Chinese Brothers" is probably my favorite REM song.
I trust you've known the pleasures of "The Voice of Harold." If not, you simply must.
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