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They are strange
these things that we keep around us.
We place great store in them
and trust to them our happiness.
These things, these comforters
acquired with riches
imply contentment in our lives
but, once our feet are on this treadmill,
we race forever onward, desiring more.
How much more contented
the poor man with nothing?
All he desires is food.



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natf
Nat S Ford
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