What is a psalm a poem a prayer
if not a Wall Street ticker tape
our fear spelled out in numbers,
compulsion to accumulate.

What have we to say to God but wait,
before I die restore me to wonder
allow me to fill in some blanks.
For behold, my storehouse is full

and if I die now I'm a fool
who worked all my life like a slave,
unpaid for my own efforts, ruled
by a loaf of bread, a golden bull,

and the face in my LinkedIn profile.
A self brought to perfection, yet unrealized.
Still rich where I should be poor,
dull where I should be wise.

E. D. Watson