Oh the joy of missing out.

When the world begins to shout

And rush towards that shining thing;

The latest bit of metal bling —

Trying to have it, see it, do it,

You simply know you won’t go through it;

The anxious clamouring and need

This restless hungry thing to feed.

Instead, you feel the loveliness;

The pleasure of your emptiness.

You spurn the treasure on the shelf

In favour of your peaceful self;

Without regret, without a doubt.

Oh the joy of missing out.