A poem about greed

I am the long – haired steed whose hair bristles in the wind

My voice rattles the calm of the dying day

And steadies the winds of the night sky

The fine, fair-told fairytale that bluff threw in

A fair fish amongst the dark reeds

I am the man who would have been King

Reigned supreme over nine domains

The lad reduced to tears now clad in Midas gold

Of humble disposition turned pale

I am the wind the whim and the water

The ghost of an unending darkness

Of hopes and dreams and tattered hearts

Undone by greed, purged by jealousy

I am the the long haired steed whose hair is chiseled in the ages

My aura is spread thin across the barren plains

And my mantras lie ransacked, blood stains in the sand

None left to give, none to take