Naked save for mud, I pause to rest,

lungs heavy with air looted of oxygen.
I take a sip of water, thirsty as a great river
making a final reach for the sea,

though the way is barred by decisions and by fate.

Humankind sets the price of the earth—
What is the value of things buried deep within?

I would extract a fortune out of dust,

I would mine the sky for diamonds and the soil for moons,
but you have lost your taste for luxury, and I for desolation.

While I waited for you, someone picked the quarry clean;
There are no transmuted stones left to give.
What remains is what it is, unadorned rocks

whose impure origins you know so well.

Raw emotion is authoritarian in its way;

I don’t blame you for not wanting me or my blood money.