Proprietary Property

Proprietary property is what I saw in there,
Six layers of protection, though the box was almost bare,
Except one slip of paper with some self-talk on one side,
Which said, "It's looking good, kid" where his money did reside.

First layer was the document which let me act for him;
And then I proved identity; two keys; a safe within;
Two ladies hovered, tensely ’round, excitement rippled through
Their veins, or was that danger in what they were going to do.

As front-line of defence they had been coached to careful be:,
"You mess this up and you'll be fired, just try, and you will see;
For property protection is what boxes are to do,
And people are the weakest link – so weakest link is you."

The women quaked down to their toes, beyond their comfort zone,
They wished that they had not been there, had been sick in bed at home;
You'd think they faced a robber with a mask, a note, and gun –
"Just put the money in the sack, no bells or you'll be done".

"Why would that be?" I wondered to myself, (with nothing there)
He'd said as much, "It empty is (except the note), it's bare);
But they were extra cautious, quite discreet, I must admit,
As though in there were precious jewels, whatever else would fit.

I checked it out, retrieved the note, to scan it off to him;
I paid it out, and closed it down, no contents left within;
With empty box, the ladies must breathe easier tonight,
To know there's less for them to watch – it gave them such a fright.

If I'd been old and grizzled, with some scruffy, dirty clothes,
And looked the part of homeless man, or some such one as those,
A taint of liquor on my breath, and shifty, sullen eyes,
Out there in plush suburbia, they’d think I proffered lies.

But then again, the power in my papers was the thing
They couldn't touch, so they would sweat, then to their boss they'd sing;
Though their position trumps my looks, the papers holds the might –
A situation such as that would give them quite a fright.

That says to me that property's regarded highly there;
It goes far back in history, for it these people care –
To get my papers, first a lawyer then a judge signed off,
"Proprietary" is the word, which rises like a moth –

To light out in the darkest night, like to a candle flame –
(To hold with certain stewardship) – "for what is mine I came
Don't mess with me and what I own or you will take the fall –
These symbols of prosperity are valued most of all."

For wages at a minimum these women labour there;
Their bosses up the line are rich, protected from such care;
That says so much about these folks and their society –
Proprietary property – core value one can see.

Because of that they'll go to war, defend it with their guns;
They hold to strict accounting, lots of people doing sums;
"On judgment day they'll be a time of reconciling all
Resources held in stewardship, backdated to the fall."

I find it funny, watching this, now, after cancer's scare,
(And hearing now of someone else whose journey's headed there);
These guys are nuts, it matters not, why, daily millions die
For lack of food and water, carry on with shattered sigh.

I think there will accounting be, but not what I described;
I know Christ said, "To such a one as these" – "For them I died";
"If you'll a cup of water give"; "Whatever's needed there";
"You do it unto me, my friend"; and "Thus express my care".

For in the larger scheme of things, it's not about the cash,
Or all the goods within your box, your precious little stash;
It's more about the planet, and the people living there,
About the falling leaves, the warming sun, and chilly air;

About the laughter and the tears, frustrations, triumphs, joys;
Of course it's nice to have those things – computers, tools, and toys –
But don't lose sight of precious things like life of which you're part
Proprietary property ranks second in the heart.

When I stand back and think about the note I found there –
The note of self-encouragement – did anybody care?
Or at the time at which he wrote, was he out there alone?
That's what I mean – what's piles of cash, when you're away from home?

For several years that little note laid silent in the box;
He paid a fee to keep it safe beneath those layered locks;
And now that I've retrieved it, and I ponder it tonight,
I smile – for in its words, I know this man has got it right.

For money is a tool to use, why stack in a box?
Much better to keep precious words, as through the world one walks;
For when the money is all gone, and life comes crashing down,
"It's looking good" speaks larger life, alleviates our frown.

I wonder if those ladies knew what they’d protected there –
Self-talk for his encouragement, and otherwise quite bare.
I heard a burglar switched the price-tags in a clothing store,
So valued staff was very cheap, and garbage cost much more.

Campolo said, "That's just like life in this society –
We've got it upside down – were nuts – can't anybody see?"
But here I see things right-side up, for they protected words
Of hope and self-encouragement, he out in life had heard.

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