A pretense of ownership garners no rights
From the market to the mountains, this is a renter’s paradise
Just ask those about to leave, empty handed without wealth
Of any color, from gold to green, the burden of ownership
Was never given, it is assumed, and taken as real, a sure path
Towards misery, the road forked a long time ago, offering a choice
A fleeting one, if one can remember, renters come and go
They never seek to build a path to happiness
Realizing it is already there, nothing is asked for or kept
The mind is on rent, a temporary roof till we find ourselves
Whether owner or renter, one can leave with only one bag
Filled with happiness or misery, that’s left to us
