Loud clings of the expensive glasses held by the hands of bourgeoisie. Life is a never-ending parade of lavish events and designer threads. Materialistic laughter follows the celebratory “cheers!” of their mere existence. Like an empty vase whose dust is wiped off everyday, but remains hollow and houses no flowers.
But it doesn’t bother them that they are of no use. This mere fact engraves extraordinary pride in their characters, a way of outsmarting the system—lots of money with no work. Like a boulder of gold found at the end of a rainbow.
What they don’t realize is this boulder fell into theirlaps. Perhaps one might see this as a sign of the divine luck, but imaginehaving a heavy boulder of gold fall into your lap—what an amputating burden.
No greater burden lies than the shadowing cloud upon theirmorals. They expand their wealth, only to grow so conceited to believe wealthis of their own manifestation, rather than a divine blessing.
But perhaps when one looks at the bourgeoisie, compares hisassets to theirs, it is evident indeed who is the wealthiest of them all. Thebeauty in the intangible is that it is no slave to economics. Poor oldbourgeoisie, they will forever remain servants to their own materialism.