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Riches piled up all around
We buy bigger homes
Fill up the garage
Rent space for our treasures
What we throw away
Another collects
We pursue perfection
Antique stores filled with collections
Stores stocked with too many choices
One without a home walks by
All they own in a shopping cart
To truly become rich
We must become poor
Happiness is not what we own
It is found in those we know