​The Cleaner of Commodes

Congregate, you mighty ones, who know great success and power.

Assemble in your lofty towers, in rooms with marble columns, and well-polished furnishings.

Propound prophet margins and quarrel over your quarterly sales.

Now is the hour to reassess the redundant and downsize the loyal.

Let go of those who helped to construct your castle walls.

Now that they have nothing left to bring,

Send them all back to their humble abodes.

Still left standing, is the cleaner of commodes.

Power depletes, towers tumble, and mighty hedges burn asunder.

Finite positions, more fragile and embrittled than first presumed.

Keep your integrity, it’s value is not,

But make a public proclamation of your resignation.

The shareholders have spoken, and it’s you they have chosen,

To carry the sins of reduced dividends

Down the dark and unmarked roads.

Still left standing, is the cleaner of commodes.