They descended from peaks of cumulus,

purple and dense in the ghostly pre-dawn,

shadows painting disdain on their faces.

Yet they are driven by a stimulus

thought to be just: neither brashness nor brawn

imperils what their mission embraces.

With drums and trumpets they came to foretell

resplendent pleasure domes and pathways paved

with gems and fair-skinned women tranquilized

by scented baths and spices and the spell

of sleek seduction, godly and depraved.

We idolized them all, and we despised

them with each breath while the delights we craved

were mirrored in their eyes, a fiery gleam

hinting at motives beyond our meager

understanding. For we would be enslaved

by the cost of freedom. Do we blaspheme

with these suspicions, are we not eager

for their gifts? With craft and cunning they earned

these ample spoils, now ours as well as theirs.

Unfettered by the anguished pleas

from sunless edges of our world, we learned

that fortune consecrates whoever dares

divine a palace from a trifling breeze.

Yet amidst the gathering plenty remained

a lust for things unknown. As I ventured

from idyllic gardens I saw the stains

of discarded life among those ordained,

as I, to be worshiped, to be censured:

ambition bartered for bejeweled chains.

And further on were the children, huddled

perversely, hoarding rations in a place

once swelling with pleasure seekers, the roar

of industry around them, the muddled

silent stares belying on every face

the sense of theft by those who came before.

Paul Buchheit is a professor with the Chicago City Colleges, co-founder of Global Initiative Chicago (GIChicago.org), and the founder of fightingpoverty.org.