The winemaker stands in the vineyard,

The sun low over the vines,

His hands worn from years of craft,

His heart heavy with the weight of choice.

The currency is devalued,

Its worth less today than it was before,

And he must decide—

Will he raise his prices,

Or seek cheaper grapes,

Keeping quiet about what’s changed?

He knows his competitors well.

Many will not hesitate to cut corners,

To find lesser fruits,

To keep their prices low and their profits high.

If he raises his prices,

His bottles may sit unsold,

Outpriced in a market where no one speaks of the shift.

But if he keeps the price the same,

By lowering his own standard,

What is his wine but a shadow of itself?

Devalued money pits him against himself,

Asking him to choose between business and ethics,

Between the easy road and the right one.

It’s not just a decision—

It’s a battle of integrity,

A choice forced upon him

By forces far beyond his control.

He looks around and sees the impact—

Producers everywhere face the same dilemma.

Many will choose the cheaper path,

Telling themselves it’s only survival,

That competition demands it,

That ethics are a luxury they can’t afford.

And so, little by little,

The moral fabric of society frays.

Corners are cut, promises bent,

And customers, unaware,

Come to accept less with each passing day.

The wine they sip is no longer the same,

The taste a quiet deception.

And in their lowered expectations,

They drink the proof of a world

Where profit has triumphed over principle.

And so the soul of the market dims,

As the standards fall,

And integrity is eroded,

not simply for competition,

but to survive the steady decay of the money itself.