We are chefs preparing more than a green salad. The dish we serve is money but you have to track the ingridents to get a main course.

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Amidst technology screens and commotion sits a man at the top of his perch.

He overlooks his workers. Each one toils a new stragegy. Each one forms a new process. Each one earns a new dollars.

He is grey eyed and silver haired. His eyes do not blink, and his hands rest on a cane. Despite the use of a cane his body does not appear withered. He has muscles which are strong. He has a chest which is broad and shoulders which look like Atlas.

He calmly rests in the middle of a room full of people.

Amongst the valleys of oblivion and the trails of toil lay the source of all wealth. From its leaves money grow but the man who picks the leaves is not what he claims to be.

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“I have given the land its wealth. I have stimulated the economy. I keep rates which our merchants borrow low. I have created family stimulus and solved the issues which press us. Under war, under pestilence and under the guise of leader I came to lead. So let me lead!”

A crowd roars with enthusiasm. The sounds bellow through an amphitheater. The man stands tall on his podium. Encircling him are the flags of his country.

Around him are the subjects which he leads.

From above and below all admire.

He speaks with conviction.

“You all were here…

The world’s value is manipulated. Their claims are an endless expanse upward. The beauty we chase is always aloof.

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Now I know what I have come for. They say above the clouds lay a treasure like no other. The depth of her beauty is something I have only heard before.

A blue-eyed warrior sits thinking to himself. He comes into view and we see he stands at the gate of a tower. He is one man. He is of middle age. His beard is coarse but his tunic coarser. His chest is broad. His chin strong. His eyes swirl a Cool blue. The blue chases so deep it appears to be an endless ocean.

A strong current.

The office holds weight of infinite measure. The riches are found in the gemstones of green paper. The hope is in creating an optical illusion to scale.

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“I do not know.”

An aged man sits at the end of a dark hall. From the vantage point of his general, he appears ominous. Some say his demands fell on death ears. Others say he asked but others questioned his asking. No one knows the answers to his questions.

They say his questions do not make sense.

The general musters his voice.

“The visage is ending. Our illusion of collapse is not holding.”

A warrior scarred by endless battles stands at the foot of the hall. His armor bears streaks, scratches, and dents. Dirt is encrusted amongst…

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…

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.



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. …

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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