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Random ThoughtsInvesting in crypto feels like you’re getting paid in dollars while everybody else is getting paid in walnuts
Beneath the copper skies aloft,
Where gears and dreams do mesh and soft,
A blue-furred tinker works with glee,
For nuts, his wage, beneath the tree.

With whiskers wide and eyes that gleam,
He spins the wheel, lets off some steam,
His toil for shells, so hard and round,
While others' pockets green abound.

In quirky hat, his thoughts do whirl,
With cogs and springs, a single pearl,
His labor's fruit, in wood-box bound,
As world's new coin does most confound.

This everyman with fur of teal,
Feels weight of change, both odd and real,
For what he earns, though earnest got,
In market's eye, may count for naught.

In sapphire hue, with wrench and wheel,
He toils not for the joy or zeal,
But necessity, for life's demand,
In world where walnuts count as grand.

The engine hums, the cogs they spin,
A day's wage starts, where dreams wear thin,
For in his grasp, the simple seed,
Becomes the bread that mouths will feed.

Around him coins from circuits sprung,
And paper bills from presses flung,
Yet in his hand, the nut's firm weight,
Speaks of a simpler, steadier state.

No joyous dance, nor merry jest,
He works because he must, like rest,
With steady hand and furrowed brow,
The tinker's task is here and now.

Each turn of gear, each nut secured,
A day's work done, a living assured,
No lesser worth in what he holds,
In times when data turns to gold.

His craft, a means to meet the end,
Where walnut worth does not pretend,
It's life's exchange, plain and taught,
In the tinker's hand, the world's thought.

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join waiting list for t-shirt of this design nadavrockprints.com/

Description
Random ThoughtsInvesting in crypto feels like you’re getting paid in dollars while everybody else is getting paid in walnuts
Beneath the copper skies aloft,
Where gears and dreams do mesh and soft,
A blue-furred tinker works with glee,
For nuts, his wage, beneath the tree.

With whiskers wide and eyes that gleam,
He spins the wheel, lets off some steam,
His toil for shells, so hard and round,
While others' pockets green abound.

In quirky hat, his thoughts do whirl,
With cogs and springs, a single pearl,
His labor's fruit, in wood-box bound,
As world's new coin does most confound.

This everyman with fur of teal,
Feels weight of change, both odd and real,
For what he earns, though earnest got,
In market's eye, may count for naught.

In sapphire hue, with wrench and wheel,
He toils not for the joy or zeal,
But necessity, for life's demand,
In world where walnuts count as grand.

The engine hums, the cogs they spin,
A day's wage starts, where dreams wear thin,
For in his grasp, the simple seed,
Becomes the bread that mouths will feed.

Around him coins from circuits sprung,
And paper bills from presses flung,
Yet in his hand, the nut's firm weight,
Speaks of a simpler, steadier state.

No joyous dance, nor merry jest,
He works because he must, like rest,
With steady hand and furrowed brow,
The tinker's task is here and now.

Each turn of gear, each nut secured,
A day's work done, a living assured,
No lesser worth in what he holds,
In times when data turns to gold.

His craft, a means to meet the end,
Where walnut worth does not pretend,
It's life's exchange, plain and taught,
In the tinker's hand, the world's thought.

more images on nadavrock.com/
join waiting list for t-shirt of this design nadavrockprints.com/