The Gold Brick

A devout and God-fearing man once found a brick of solid gold fall into his hands. It so dazzled his clear mind that greed clouded his once bright heart. All night he schemed: with this wealth and treasure, my life will never fall into ruin. I will never again have to bend low before anyone, begging, then straighten up empty-handed. I will build a house with marble floors, its ceiling beams all fragrant aloeswood. A private room for friends, and off the room, a garden inside the courtyard. I am worn out from stitching patch upon patch; the heat of the cookstove has scorched my eyes and mind. From now on servants will cook my meals, and I will nourish my soul in comfort. This rough felt bedding has tormented me; from now on I will spread fine carpets. The fantasy made him senseless and dazed; greed sank its crab-claws deep into his brain. No peace was left for prayer or intimate whispering; his eating, sleeping, remembrance, and worship were all gone. Drunk on this illusion, he wandered out to the open plain, unable to sit still anywhere. There a man was kneading clay upon a grave, meaning to make bricks from that graveyard mud. The old man sank for a moment into thought: O shortsighted soul, take this lesson. Why tie your heart to this brick of gold, when one day they will make a brick out of your own clay? Greed's mouth does not open so wide that a single morsel could ever satisfy its hunger. Let go of this brick, you worthless fool; a great river cannot be dammed with a single brick. You are lost in dreams of profit and wealth while the capital of your life is trampled away. The dust of desire has sewn your mind's eyes shut; the hot wind of lust has burned your life's harvest. Wipe the kohl of heedlessness from your clear eyes, for tomorrow you yourself will be kohl in the eye of the dust.