It begins as a murmur –
a restless craving at midnight,
whispering, there is more,
always more,
luring the weary heart
into shadowed promises
of endless horizons.
It slithers beneath skin
and settles in the marrow,
reshaping hands into claws,
eyes into vaults,
and the mind into ledgers
where kindness balances against loss,
and trust erodes like forgotten coin.
Greed is a slow devourer –
corroding wonder,
dimming the light that once
pooled in laughter
or spilled in a shared glance.
It launders the world into currency,
measures souls by what they carry
rather than how they love,
or the warmth they freely lend.
In the quiet hours of dawn,
greed awakens with hunger renewed,
devouring dreams not yet born,
twisting aspirations into chains
that bind the spirit to golden cages,
where freedom flutters like a trapped bird,
yearning for skies it once claimed.
The greedy soul starves
on a banquet of abundance –
for appetite sharpens with every swallow
and fulfilment stays just beyond the tongue.
It builds walls around gardens,
until flowers wither for want of a breeze
and the music that once swelled
between neighbours
shrinks to a hush
beneath bolted doors.
Yet greed spreads like ivy unchecked,
climbing the towers of power,
entangling laws and leaders alike,
where justice bends to the weight of wealth,
and the poor are footnotes in forgotten tomes,
their voices drowned in rivers of ink
spilled from opulent quills.
Grasp and grasp –
but the fist closes on emptiness,
and what is kept festers
where it cannot be given away.
Society fractures,
fractures into bitter silences,
and the greedy heart,
numbed by opulence,
forgets the vital ache of giving,
echoing only in hollow chambers.
In empires built on hoarded gold,
greed whispers of legacy eternal,
but crumbles thrones to dust,
leaving heirs to inherit ruins –
barren fields where compassion once grew,
and the wind carries tales of what was lost
to the unyielding grip of want.
Greed names itself desire,
ambition, self-care –
but it is a thief,
stripping flesh from soul,
turning plenty into absence,
and humanity into shadow,
a silhouette fading against the dawn.
At last, in the silence of reckoning,
greed reveals its hollow core –
a void that no treasure can fill,
inviting the soul to awaken anew,
to scatter seeds of generosity wide,
where barren lands bloom once more,
and the heart remembers the joy of release.
by Bakchos
