We exist in a never-ending storm.
A tempest of insatiability, lashes at our fantasy of freedom and fair trade.
Our hopes and future, all but consumed by ignorance and greed.
Fairness, clarity and truth, smothered by a Keynesian matrix of manipulation.
Drenched in debt and denial.
Groping in the darkness, our path sodden, with irrational loans and liabilities.
Enslaved by patriotic leeches, addicted to decay, gnawing at our precious hours, every day.
Battered refugees, searching for shelter, from the torrential downpour of toxic derivatives.
Suddenly, and unbelievably, amongst the fucking farce, a solitary HASH takes root.
Original, irreversible and unstoppable, the mighty Merkle sprouts forth.
Untouched by human hands, untainted by errors and misinterpretations.
A vast mycelium of perfect numbers, stretches across our horizon.
Nourishing transactions, drizzle from the cryptographic flux.
Ethereal equations trickle to its resolute roots.
A billion binary branches, blossoming with fragrant value.
A great, absolute tree, burgeoning with the fruits of digital labour.
Reaching steadily towards the moon.
Money grows on Merkle trees.
Now here we are, sitting at the top of the block, watching the fiat roll away.
The blockchain’s light, pierces through the thunderheads.
And like vampires in the morning sun, the eternal parasites, scurry back to their dark dank vaults.
Hope grows on Merkle trees.
With picks, shovels and umbrella’s.
Wading through malicious mud and treacherous puddles.
Satoshi and a ragtag collection of disciples, lead the way.
To a fairer day.
Freedom grows on Merkle trees.
Pantelis Roussakis 2017
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