Ashes of Avarice

Long ago, they built with honor, carved their name into the world like stone into mountain. But the gold... ah, the gold whispered. They listened, and in their hunger, they fed the flame that once gave them light. It grew wild, consuming all. Now, only ash remains—rich, but lifeless. Even gods weep for what pride and greed destroy.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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