The Moral Market Never Misprices

Across the floors of Wall Street’s gleam and grind,

Through shifting deals and loyalties confined,

I met with smiles that masked a colder art,

And felt both steady hands and fractured hearts.

Some bonds were built like steel that would not bend,

While others broke where trust could not defend;

In whispered halls where fortunes rise and fall,

I learned not every ally stands through all.

Yet time, unhurried, keeps a careful chart,

Recording every action, every part;

And Karma walks beside me, calm and wise,

No need for haste, no veil across her eyes.

She comes in echoes—soft or sharply clear,

A voice returning things once spoken here;

A kindness paid in ways I could not see,

A quiet grace that circles back to me.

And those who dealt in harm or subtle slight

Meet shadows shaped from their own former night;

Not always swift, nor always understood,

But always just returning what it could.

So, I have learned to trust what circles through—

What leaves our hands comes back, reshaped, yet true.