A Dim Reality
A poem
I stained my emotions with the spirit of luxury, reeling and frolicking in much material indulgence. My lips kissed the appetite for gold, and ever since, I’ve never been any less desirous.
The coronation event of the galaxies set me with the insignia to be a business magnate, and to expand my entrepreneurial prowess from coast to coast so my renown stank with hefty affluence.
There were no success secrets to divulge and neither did I retreat in clandestine, occult gatherings. My blessing was to scrutinize and preside over the mesh of currency, housing cash inflow in many stratospheric sums.
I made a fortune from my sheer, financial ingenuity — acquiring posh estates, spawning multinationals and lucrative business franchises. My ways were to mingle with the excellence of opulence and route my multiple income streams.
The principle of material aggrandizement was an inclination upon which my existential philosophy was hinged, and I walked the glossy corridors of power from my mounting, unwaning influence.
On two consecutive occasions, I was the face on the front page of the world’s most prestigious publication. My manners were to flail my arms in the air and let out a howl for clutching the apex of fulfilment and the zenith of global merchandising.
But the suddenness of disaster sent the markets of a promising and eventful year crashing down. Steadily and ever so dawdlingly my resources emptied into the drain — plummeting by the numbers.
My vast estates stretched on lush, resplendent vistas lost market value sending me tumbling into a gripping, harrowing ordeal. The mental scapes of my mind were in utter frenzy so I mourned daily curled in a fetal position.
The long retinue of staff accompanying my business pursuits have ditched me like flies evading a hot stove. My heart is shrivelled to boast of love or stand tall on the platform of Titans. Events have made me a crippled weakling to nurse sore, purulent wounds.
I dine with apprehension and cuddle the cold skin of despondency. The outlook is bleak and the air is stoked with the substance of despair. Shame is pleased to act out the pattern of my laughable steps all because I know a dim reality.
© Valentine Nnebe 2024
All Rights Reserved
