I could not see but I saw everything. I heard what love sounds like. I earned more than most do in a lifetime if they only knew.

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I know who these people are. I haven’t seen them before, but I know them. I remember one of them prayed over me. I didn’t understand the prayer back then, but I do now. I remember hearing feint noises. A lot of the feint noises came from the one who prayed all the time.

He always talked about numbers. I remember him talking about transfers, companies and something called an Initial Public Offering. He also talked a lot to the one who made me feel safe. She was always so kind and loving. …

Her lips say she wants to say more. Her eyes are tired of not knowing what standard to choose. She makes more than others but it is never enough.

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“Here I am. I’m in the top one percent. Despite the fact I give everything I can’t talk to them as an equal! So they stick me in here. I’m the exception to the women making 81% of a man’s wage.”

Before a man, sitting at his desk is what everyone perceives is beauty. A woman with size 3 waist, 34 cup bra and a walk to kill. Men gawk at her, but none approach her. She’s been told she has a bitch face.

Apparently holding eye contact, not smiling and choking out some frank words does something to make people terrible. …

I destroyed this world over the past century by claiming I always go up. I enjoyed economic privilege at civil right expense. Now civil rights cash their checks to prolong my climb ever higher.

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In the center of a massive city stands one tower amongst stratified buildings. The buildings glitter gold, silver, and concrete in the sun light. The city is built as one giant circle. Each ring encircles the giant tower standing above all else.

From a bird’s eye view it is as if each row lays prostate.

A form of worship.


Each row of buildings encircles the tower.

There is only one tower. People have long whispered the function of the tower. Some say it was for ego. Others say it was to exude dominance. …

Our economic impact is not erased. The lives we could have lived not forgotten. Amongst the living death is not just another page in their chapter.

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The night is still. Heat radiates from the concrete man holes which mark the exit points of street frameworks. Buildings stand watch over empty streets. Each building has its story to tell. Each window is an eye to witness the events unfolding.

The people below walk about their lives. People in the day autonomously bustle about their reality. In the night people creep with varying intentions.

Fear can be felt after the moon rises.

Hunger is felt frequently early.

Happiness is always short.

A tear in the fabric of street silence tears apart the mantle covering reality.


A bullet sails from a single point of light. The light illuminates the fire of its sender. The boys who are not yet men struggle for identity. …

My blade is soiled with their death. I have killed them each time they dare to enter my ranks. Yet here I sit hearing another canary sing its death tune.

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“We must seek the Avenger! He is waiting at the end of the mountain pass!”

A Middle-Aged man calls out. He sits atop a strong beast. His chest is shielded by a crest of armor which moves as he breathes. His breath is a bit heavy. He has been riding for some time. A young man sits at the bottom of a pass. He has just rounded the corner.

“Will he answer our call?”

A slender man is the accompanying rider. He bears a crimson cloak which embers in the sunset. …

Lanes of cars draw rivers of steel endlessly. The air offers toxic fumes as life support. The ground in which she stands is desolate.

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Long ago this land knew a serene setting. Hills stretched as long as the eye could see. Rivers here drew more than fresh water in the past. These rivers supported life in and out of the waters. The rivers represented a life blood to and from an interconnected world.

Birds chirped songs of mourning. People walked amongst animal neighbors.

Fish knew a route to track.

Trees dotted the landscape.

A special tree would come to be in this area. A tree which would form the epicenter of the world later on in life. …

The truth of our condition is bleak. The rates which we pay are dismal. The watcher of worlds sits atop a mighty throne pondering the outcome.

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Winds push through a ruined landscape. The ruins form chasms which channel the winds. Upon closer inspection, we see these ruins contain people. What appears ruined buildings are the latest Economic Opportunity Zones in America.

Poverty rates hovered just above ten percent prior to the COVID pestilence. Now poverty extends its borders. The air blowing through the landscape has voices. The air’s voice is for the people living on the ground.

The wind composes its tune.

W — — A — — I — -LLLllll….

Long painful wails cry from the earth. …

Lord Fiat wields all power through strife of the wealthy, his tangible presence and his alleged historical success. His challenger is Bit the subvert to his authority.

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Amidst pestilence, destruction, and warfare the leader of a great nation stands to defend his honor. His champions say, ‘Restore America’. The code of his land allows challengers to duel for the right to command power. So here he stands in the sands of a self-created arena.

He is both an ominous and hopeful presence.

Many have known him through time. He has taken many names. Some names spoken and others only written.

His armor is cloaked in a crimson green. His color moves in and out to illuminate a hologram. Its images change with light.

Some call him Lord Fiat. Others call him the Lord of Expansion. …

The demand of people drives the currents of change. The currents of change swell to dollar bills. Amidst the current of dollar bills sits a lagoon of wealth.

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Do you want a job? Do you want great compensation? Well we are watching compensations soar from $500 a week to $8,000 a week in a particular profession. The rush for its demand sparked a bidding war. People have not seen these prices since the slave trade.

Desperately seeking talent, attempting to attract people and the offer to do what others shun commands premium. Once underappreciated and over worked these individuals are more precious than gold.

For gold, takes time to appreciate.

For gold, is paid a single instance for its time.

For gold, is preferred as a medium of exchange. …

The rebounds of stocks are setups for large scale sell off sinkers. Index options are flat lining your heart beat. Amidst the ups and downs there is a level playing field.

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It’s four A.M. A man is sitting upright in his chair. His eyes look blood shot and he can’t seem to find his basis. His hair needs to be combed. The brown strands are clumps of brown bands now. His shirt looks like it could use a wash. There is a mustard stain from a 7 hour old hot dog meal.

What’s keeping him up?

He’s purchased two long positions at a price he knew would be good. Everything seems to have broken through the floor of support.

Nothing makes sense.

All fundamentals were showing a breakout pattern. He saw the signal line crossing the MACD, he saw a beautiful Bollinger band cigar and he even referenced harmonics! …


Chris Knight

Christopher is a Professional Entrepreneur with over 14 years of experience, a Master Project Manager, Financial Analyst, & Master Financial Planner

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