Distempered Loon

I met a man from a distant land,

He told me tales unheard of;

Of clean air and clean seas,

Of people living in harmony.

Surely it is a lie thought I,

Where hasn't greed overpowered guilt?

But his stories and his innocence,

Were allowance for my decadence!

The world I come from,

Has not much to do.

There aren't solid houses; paved roads,

There isn't pay, no work load.

We reap what we sow,

And share in times of need.

Lentils, millets and rice,

Is all needed to suffice.

And time that is in plenty,

Is spent in sharing stories;

Of hardships in famines,

Or of light hearted times.

There's a river flowing through,

A cascade we gather every moon;

Sing hymns to the boisterous water,

And the souls that it carries further.

We care for all that's around,

Or all that's around cares for us!

We are the sons and the daughters,

We belong, but nothing belongs to us!

And atop the mighty mountain,

Inscribed on the rocks are the words:

"Oh! You distempered loon of greed and lust,

You've come to be and will only become dust!"