There is perhaps, a soul I met,
Not in least, one of us,
For no mere passion, his heart conceive
Just a drive, in a world he lives.
In collecting the materials,
For his comfort,
Warmth of his home,
No less, does he lag back one of us,
Being a Luddite, he calls himself.
Be it so, what he portrays,
It is, he who holds the enigma within,
The power to rise to a lucrative nature,
Yes, he is the Lucrative Luddite.