Dennis O'Driscoll on money

(from Irish Times, an extract from Dennis O'Driscoll's poem >>>)
Paper Trail

Once, money had credibility. Its word was its bond.
The story it told was backed up by casket-shaped gold bullion
interred in cold, calculating vaults of central banks.
Once, money added up, was secure in its identity, knew
exactly what it stood for. It had standing: was seed capital,
buying power, providence, a healthy reserve for future needs.
The love of money was the root of evil. Yet thrift was virtuous.
Saving was good for the soul. ...
Then the bottom line turned notional; losses, gains
proved mere statistics, collateral for loans a default mode
consigned to timorous, wimpish, bygone times.
Labyrinthine instruments were trafficked on
global exchanges in the blink of a cursors eye,
quicker than a bullish broker could roar Buy!

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