What do we do when we are rich?
When money grows on trees
And we don't have to struggle
Or worry about how to scratch anymore?
Then where might our worries lie?
Under what pile of existential dust
Will my discontent find itself?
And how much are the quarters
The cost of time having gone by?
If I were to become Bill Gates
Would I find, looking inward
There's nothing left
When worry has been called home?
Denis Kucharski
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-do-we-do-when-we-are-rich/
