Lies of Gold

All that glitters, is not gold but, does one take note or, is the shine enough to overcome the warnings of old and draw one into its folds? Make one believe that what has been found is not that which could belong to a fool?

Carried by words and ideas that convince, manipulate, compel, dictate terms and drive one into behaviors that easily upset the balance, get out of control and speed the slide down a slippery slope for one, and for all.

Culture, religion, family and friends gather behind the spiel, attracted by the glistening words, the shining smiles, the promise of pleasure and plenty. A dream from which illusion and reality meld into the same space, like an imaginary friend of a lonely child, one just wanting to belong to something, anything, no matter the cost.

Do this and have that, buy that and experience this. There is a purchasable solution for every problem real or imagined. And, the golden words touched by the hand of Midas, never fail to draw a number into a break even point at the very least, a handsome profit often enough.

It is the words of Midas, not the touch that lead on to harms not yet seen. The promises of more wealth, beauty and love as celebrities sell souls and the public's longing for a piece of the same drives demand ever faster, consumption ever higher.

Those who can afford buy-in early, an exclusive club with tailored bags and shoes, fast cars and luxury yachts. And down the pyramid the golden words flow as each looks up with desire. Each wanting some of what those above have. A piece of gold for their very own, even a small piece will do.

Not all can have the high-end brands and few can afford the mid. Soon, the quality falls as the bandwagon becomes crowded and what was sold as valuable and rare, becomes ubiquitous, cheap and passe - unwanted by the high-rollers.

But the trickle is slow to reach the base where the poorest souls creep. Wanting a little luxury as seen on TV, or in the pages of the glossy magazines consumed to escape the harsh realities of a life lived on the barest of terms.

Toiling and working at the dirtiest of jobs, scrimping and scraping to gather the funds until finally they have collected enough. Unable to afford the best but still the illusion holds, having similar will do. Looking in the mirror proudly at what has been bought and believing that better has finally been reached, feeling the glow of success, a sense of belonging and fulfillment.

Unseen is the maker of the knock-off watch, unheard is the growl of hunger as the sewing machine whirs. Yet day after day the work goes on, slaves at their station. And each night home to lay in a bed most would see unfit for a pet. Staring at a wall with a dream that one day a shiny piece of their very own would too be held. The golden words and glossy pictures pinned saying; One for all, all for one, collect a little more, reach, extend, borrow if you must, a little debt will not hurt.

The words of Midas are attractive, all they touch turns to gold as they fall like rain into the minds the wanting, the needy. But unlike tales of myth and legend, the cost is not paid directly by the King. The ones who cannot eat, with children frozen solid with little hope to ever thaw, are those who believed the words that success was able to be bought. Instead of discovering what was more valuable than gold within themselves, the work was done to buy the desires of another.

Surrounded by the gains of outsourced sweat and oppression, Midas sits upon throne and looks at what has been accomplished. In silence.

Alone.

Taraz
[ a Steemit original ]