Ode to Falling Values

They gleam like true silver never did,

deceptively shiny on my palm,
the debased coinage of a devalued age.
But silver they are not, for sure!
Real silver does not gleam;
the dull veneer of time, and
unwillingness to advertise its worth
keeps it low-key and inconspicuous.

It quietly shuns the ostentation

that stems from a sense of inferiority
— the hallmark of baser metal.
As silver never advertises its presence,
so do both noble men and noble metals
shrink from the glare of publicity,
preferring to embrace obscurity…
Yet, ages past, kings staked their crowns
on the dull little coins that rang so true.

All that glisters is not gold!

The pure and the precious
burrow away from prying eyes.
Choosing the shadows of the ages,
accessible only to the discerning.
The wise and the free –
content in Self knowledge –
live cloistered lives far from
the clamour of an age that
fawns on transient baubles
of little intrinsic value

The value of the tested, tried and true

can ne’er be recognised by the fool.
Surface innocent of foppery,
Clad in ashes, the priceless residue
of lifelong study and contemplation
those who serve, purged of impurities,
are like the dusty Earth itself,
with its heart of ancient fire.
The molten value that gleams at its core
may only be seen by those
similarly seared and purged
in the merciless flame of reason.
Values are the best reflection of an Age…
And king and coinage its best yardsticks.

subroto mukerji