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Digital cash

When beggars know better than to ask Any spare change The circulation long cut,  barely any copper remains. The court is paperless The new king is contactless and the crumbled royal mint is a haunted house. When highstreet banks exist only in memory Or Wikipedia entries Like so many things, creepingly superceded; how they clung for dear life as the old reasons faded. The new blood hold their banks in the palms of their hands. When the last bundle is burnt replaced by numbers rarely seen; only on screens Who will mourn for cold, hard cash? Who will cry for bloody money?

Van Go

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Seasons

The winds off change are tireless, incessantly they blow in the still between each breath of hope forgotten seeds may grow. The best of things wither nothing lasts, this may be so. The sweetest bloom will fall apart but this moment is a trove. So too the bad today will fade replaced by something new Ride the wind as best you can in time dreams may come true.

Festering

Yesterday, galvanized by the slippery spirit you lifted one thing out of your cosmos and with counterpart resolve pledged it would be, at least, one task you'd complete. You threw yourself into it and as quickly tides took you off course,  of course so that when the day was done the task remained un... Today, three more to do's entered your cosmos joining so many others each relishing each beckoning toward their orbit while the gravity of yesterday's debt  has ebbed. You dare not leave it alone, to plough into the new lest yet more rot slide to the scornful heap.