I’d give thanks,

if in my bank,

the funds were made of time…

No more lament,

of days ill spent,

all loans repaid at prime.

Yes, glad I’d be,

if money tree,

was seeded past and present…

with futures phat,

returning that–

I’m king instead of peasant.

I’d then increase,

my inner peace,

investing self per diem…

with kindly acts,

no tit for tax,

no tithe to cryptic scheme.

Just har-mony,

e•ter•nally

enriching all I see…

I’d stock unsold,

this wealth like gold,

bestowing shares for free.

With that accrued,

I’d pursue, too,

another purse to ration…

the love inside,

all humankind,

is thing I’d view as cash–

–and let it rain,

on IRE or pain,

un-til the bleeding masses…

were healed in heart,

alight from dark,

by payday love advances.

©Karen Robiscoe

prompt: unlimited funds