I just thought,

While I'm here,

In this state,

Ignorant,

And oh so poor,

That I would speak,

Just a little bit,

A few things,

About this weird phenomena,

This secret hidden in the sand,

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By the overly cautious,

And those who overvalued,

Something so natural,

Something so easy.

Let's just say it,

It's this thing called alchemy.

Only possible because,

Of the subjective way,

We value things,

Not even things,

Sometimes you would kill,

Just for a good idea,

Anyways,

This thing,

Used by merchants,

To exchange goods,

Used by stock traders,

To trade potential,

And the artists,

Where I stand amongst,

What do we trade?

We trade from that huge unguarded treasure pile,

Built from things just existing,

We simply trade what was given to us,

By our gentle muse,

This little thing called alchemy,

It's of the mind,

When someone mentions an opportunity,

In that sweet roundabout way,

Keep it in mind,

Because it could be worthless to you,

Like money is worthless to so many,

Hold on to it,

Sometimes the trash in your hands,

Is providence to a desperate soul,

Even the oh so poor,

Do they not have the devil to trade with?