Our vision becomes clear
And all that it took,
Was an unprecedented year.
No matter how it ends,
One thing is for sure,
There seems an awfully large gap
Between the rich and the poor.
Whilst some fly to their islands
To isolate themselves,
Others are left fighting
For what remains on the shelves.
“But they insist on having bread
When they could surely eat cake,
They insist on a share
Of the money that I make.
When it’s my efforts alone
That account for this wealth,
And my regular check-ups
That maintain financial health.
And the experts that I consult
Say the Market’s good for a flutter,
To increase my portfolio
While the economy’s in the gutter”.
But different advice
Is imparted by others,
Who are keen to point out
That we’re all sisters and brothers.
Our fates are entwined,
No man is an isle,
Our life is not to accrue,
But is simply a trial.
For no matter how much you might own,
How many millions you might make,
When the Grim Reaper comes knocking,
Not a penny can you take.
So stop all that chasing,
Whether it’s for money or for fame,
And remember when it’s ending
We’ll all figure out the same.
And realise that despite
Our many years upon this earth,
The only people who mattered,
Weren’t interested in our net worth.
Not our cars or our houses,
The shares we bought and sold,
Just a considerate smile,
And a helping hand they could hold.
So although the virus might hurt us,
And many of us may fall,
One day you’ll be asked,
What did you do through it all?