After all, the market runs on greed,
The sunlight of this social ecosphere,
Self-adjusting as supply and need
Set prices to the tune of hope and fear.
The state can intervene, of course, but then
The Capitol might well outgreed the Street,
Playing games with games beyond its ken,
Positioned where the votes and money meet.
What to do? We've tried Utopia,
A nightmare far, far worse than any dream,
Strangling the source of cornucopia,
Sacrificing millions to a scheme.
We are born into a world of sin,
Which if we just accept, we die within.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon
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