This Too Shall Pass

A nomadic band in a desert land,
Trekked border to border on golden sand.
They found an oasis where none could dwell,
For sticky, black goop had poisoned the well.

That meandering folk who used to roam,
Parked at the oasis and called it home.
Word spread far and wide that their wondrous goop
Smelled like rotten eggs, and made awful soup.

Big foreign investors and local toil,
Helped them pump out a vast pool of crude oil.
Though the pool is empty, the well gone dry,
The land’s still a desert under the sky.

They once lived on that land dwelling in tents,
Now it’s high tech and complex investments.
Then they remembered an age-old story,
Of fleeting wealth and vast vainglory:

For the happiness of an ancient king,
His people made war for a golden ring.
The ring knew his joy would never last,
Its inscription read: "This too shall pass!"

Mick McKellar
October 2023