The poor young boy exchanged his life for gold, He wore a golden crown; they called him lord. They saw him as a god, for he possessed such power, And he kept watch above them, day by day, from his tower. The young lord felt both wealthy and content, Seeing the great crowd below, he believed himself heaven-sent. He thought himself a man unlike the meek, And wished to be remembered as the wealthy Greek. But as the days went by, the young lord grew alone; He had no wife, no family—only a place upon his throne. So he commanded his servants to find him a beautiful bride, One who would give him love, affection, and a child by his side. Many women were brought to him day after day, Yet the king found no true love, and so he began to pray. The clock kept ticking; he had found gold, but not love above, And that truth made him feel like a wounded white dove. Then a wise man named Socrates appeared before him, And told him he had chosen gold instead of peace within. “Zen...