A storm,
a sandstorm,
a blinding sandstorm!

Grits of gold
inebriated with a haunted hurricane
danced with a fiendish fervour
in its search for identity.

Glare of gold blinds,
grip of greed delirates.

Like a marauding butcher,
slivers of gold
gouged out your saneness.

You danced
like a possessed,
with the yellow glister
holding your hand to the funeral pyre  of your created destiny.