Luring, luring. Luring.

What is it about the human condition that over and over we trade diamonds for fool’s gold?

And yet, like Sisyphus, wearing that noose of pleasure, bliss and ease, we are eternally bound by all our eyes perceive to shimmer.

In the background, like Jiminy, we hear the chorus singing, no, shouting, “all that glitters is not gold!”.

Alas, the sirens.
“Give me your diamonds, and I’ll give you this that shimmers.”
Luring, luring, luring us to our last breath.

No diamond.
No gold.
To ashes we return.