It has been said that money is the root of all evil, but it is not. The lust for power over others is the root of all evil. Croesus, the King of Lydia, was the richest man in the world, yet he lost it all in a quest for power, when he found that all his gold availed him not.

 

 

What is that which I should turn to

Mighty Croesus asked the sage

Have I gold that men should dream of

Have not books on every page

Blazed my name in crimson letters

Boldly drawn and edged in rime

With such wealth from yon Pactolus

River’d gold bequeathed by time

Gold is gold, the sage did answer

But for greatness more must come

Cross the river, fell a Kingdom

Count thee not the mounting sum

Then upon the gentle Halys

Croesus walked with shoes of gold

Into Persia with his army

Herodotus the story told

Captured by the mighty Cyrus

Croesus begged that he might live

For his life then he would give him

All the gold he had to give

And there the story ends as often

Golden stories end not well

Gold is but a shining metal

Worthless if your soul you sell

 

 

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