And The Winner Is... Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

They say we must live by our wits
and on the seat of knowledge sit
to get, to own, to seek and sow
to make it in the here and now

They say the victor gets the spoils
and fills his vats with lots of oil
and wine and mead to overflow
and never lets the stock run low

They say a lot of things in jest
and some advice is fair at best
yet when the bottom line is drawn
and when the day arrives at dawn
my needs and wants must be addressed

Through lots of striving and of stress
my life has turned into a mess
so I must chuck advice well meant
and to my inward soul revert

At last the sneaky, well meant tricks
have hit me like a ton of bricks
to get and strive are greed and mire
to live by faith keeps me alive

My path today is like a child's
I trust my needs are met in style
when muddling on the beaten path
and not conniving to do wrath
or take, acquire and to own
for in the end, we die alone

No U-haul follows any hearse
no fatted purse, no mammon's curse
will rest with me in that cool grave
no golden goblets that some crave

So let them hoard and conquer lands
and build tall towers bright and grand
but let me trudge on wayside roads
among wildflowers and green toads
and rest in knowing what was me
may some day grow into a tree.