THE GRAIN OF PROSPERITY

Prosperity comes in many forms. In its most widespread and viral form it comprises mere pieces of paper with pictures of deceased individuals on them that now come marching as electronic digits at the end of labor, when one hands them over to governments and other juridical bodies. This form of wealth has never interested me for obvious reasons; I generally prefer to trade it asap for something actual. I have always preferred such forms of prosperity as no schedule - an open road - a meadow of a summer afternoon - a moment of my own - a forest slanted with sun rays - a tomorrow even better than today...

I have been prosperous all my life in so many of these and other uncounted ways, but I never expected to be wealthy in this way, that I never even knew was wealth: never before have I been so prosperous in cherry wood. Stacked up in ruby ingots it stands, waiting for me to spend it on original light and original heat, for winter days and nights to come. I glow with anticipation.

Apart from love (if one can ever be so apart) what greater prosperity is there?