Poem

The Spell of Bitcoin by Kirk Dudley
(Adapted from The Spell of the Yukon by Robert W. Service)

I wanted the coin, and I sought it;
I mined and stacked like a slave.
Was it FUD or winter—I fought it;
I hurled short time preference into a grave.
I wanted the coin and I got it—
Came out with a cold wallet full last fall,—
Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,
And somehow the coin’s fiat value isn’t all.

No! There’s the philosophy. (Have you heard it?)
It’s the wildest juxtaposition I know,
From the way Jeff Booth explains it
To Breedlove’s, Saylor episode show.
Some say Satoshi was fighting back when he made it,
Some say it’s something to shun;
Perhaps, but there’s some who’d not trade it
For fiat nor gold—and I’m one.

You come to get rich (damned good reason);
You feel like an exile at first;
You hate it like hell during Winter,
And then you are worse than the worst.
It grips you like some kind of sinning;
It twists you from foe to a friend;
It seems it’s been since the genesis block;
Perhaps it will be to the end.

They’re making my money diminish;
I’m tired of this inflation thing.
When I get hold of more fiat
I’m going to start stacking again.
I’ll HODL, I’m in for the long run;
Holding tight with my diamond hands;
The supply’s capped at 21 million—
Self-custody is your best friend

There’s Bitcoin, decentralized, nodes running;
It’s luring me on as of old;
Yet it isn’t just number go up that I’m wanting
So much as good energy flow.
It’s the potential to help billions of people,
It’s stopping inflation’s song;
It’s about working outside traditional systems,
I’m sure Satoshi wasn’t wrong.