for love or money

past the frantic beat
of our own hearts
as we follow false lights,
believe in all the tinsel
and the tawdry world we build
with no silence to herald
change that we can
hear above the tills

we are not enough, and what
we build is not enough -
there is no point if the
end is only us and all the
money we can gain, power
misuse, and endless things
we buy

to trash the world is not
reason to be living, and
flog our neighbour not
true ambition's end:  stop
and take the baby's hand
look at his eyes and do not speak

the stars tell it in a black sky
the place we go to when we die
is neither shop nor money

what I miss the most
is my mother's love
and the days I lived

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