The Currency of Life

Many awake to chase gold.

Others wake to breathe in a new day.

Gratitude…

To have a roof that doesn’t leak.

A bowl that’s never empty.

A bed that holds our weight.

Such are the quiet riches

Many forget to count.

Clean water,

Not bottled brands,

But flowing clear as truth.

Food that nourishes,

Not dazzle.

Warmth in winter,

Tree shade in the summer

And a hand to hold

As the world forgets your name.

These are the needs…

Simple, sacred and often overlooked

Why do the WANTS whisper louder for some.

Gift or curse?

Newer,

Faster,

Shinier.

More.

More piles up like noise,

Cluttering the inner being

Until we mistake the echo for desire

For the voice of need.

We trade hours for things, trade peace for pace,

Trade presence for the illusion of progress.

What if…

The real currency wasn’t money,

Wasn’t stuff,

Wasn’t even time?

What if…

The true wealth was in the healthy senses,

Eyes that see the sky’s layers shift,

Ears that catch a distant child’s laugh,

Skin that feels the “somewhere” of a morning breeze,

A tongue that tastes a seasonal fruit,

The nose that remembers childhood campfires

And grandfather’s aromatic smores?

What if…

The price of life was simply

GRATITUDE?