The foolish cry out against the beast,

yet they do not see the hand that feeds it.

They curse the towering giants,

yet they do not question the feast by which they grow.

They say, “Capitalism is the sickness,”

but I tell you, fiat is the rot.

For when money is endless, power is endless.

And when power is endless, it devours all before it.

A financial market unconstrained breeds monstrosities.

Companies swell beyond reason,

feeding not on value, but on debt conjured from nothing.

They grow not because they serve,

but because they are fed.

In a sound-money world, no beast may grow forever.

For to build, one must first save.

And the greater the size, the greater the weight,

the greater the weight, the greater the burden,

the greater the burden, the slower the growth.

Under Bitcoin, the soil is clean.

The great may rise, but not without limit.

For savers will choose the fruitful field,

not the bloated husk.

And so, the small will flourish,

the local will endure,

and growth will be bound once more by the laws of nature.

The wise do not despise bigness,

but neither do they worship it.

They do not seek to tear down,

but to return the scales to righteous balance.

Fiat fuels the monster.

Bitcoin restores the garden.

Let those who have eyes to see,

see the truth at last.