# Dust—All’s Yellow
Desire itself no longer within reach,1
I still recall when I could feel its grip,
When any wanted thing, mere whispered speech
Would place into my hand, nor would it slip
From out my grasp.2 And more: I was content!
I did not know the maggot gnaw of greed,
But knew the joy of gold and time well spent.
I knew the gratitude of those in need
Of generosity with wealth to match.3
Now gone, all gone! All felled within an hour!
The forces of misfortune thus could snatch
My slow accreted honor, wealth, and pow'r.
The brightness of my day enshrouds my night.
1: The inability to anticipate pleasure is a hallmark of depression.
2: See Job 1:1-3.
3: See Job 29:12-16.
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