Surely it would be great folly,
not to read the greatest book ever written.
And yet, here we are.
A book, perfectly preserved in mint condition
never once opened, its spine without a crease,
pages untouched... unmarred,
lies motionless on the auction block.
A priceless work,
the only copy of a manuscript
discovered after the now-famous author's death.
Oh! The jewels of wisdom that certainly lie within those pages!
SOLD! 1.3 million dollars to the man in the brown hat.
Priceless no longer, the words now having been given
specific... and arbitrary "value."
Oh! How he'll treasure his new prize--
the cover displayed proudly behind custom-made glass,
impenetrable to touch by all but the beady eyes
that yearn to be its owner.
Being its' "owner"
therein lies the test,
either a "gift" or a "curse,"
Owning something so...
simultaneously priceless and worthless!
Priceless in its pristine, original state,
"worthless" if opened, touched, stained, marred...
But words that are never read can offer
No wisdom, No insight, No inspiration, No
meaning or real value.
Thus leaving their "owner" with a great gift, and yet...
unsatisfied and unfulfilled, in possession of
...Nothing.
So it is that priceless and worthless can
become one and the same.
Much is Lost when man's desire to own the perfect book
causes ignorance to the greater value held within
well-worn, marked, and bent pages.
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