A rich man on a moonless street
hoarding his soul's treasure
letting ever so little slip away
in small acts of compassion.
"The world is a hard place." he said,
"I need to save this for myself."
From his hidden wealth
he could afford to give...a little.
Pushing the larger part deeper
into a secret pocket.
He forgot what he once knew.
Some things can't be saved by hoarding.
Like a half eaten apple,
soul kept hidden only withers.
Like luminous diamond dust stored
in a sack with a hole it it.
Glistening in the dark
on the street behind him,
the essence of soul leaking away.
Diamond dust twinkle
reflecting in the eyes of a poor child.
Wonderment and joy lighting her face.
In some dim time the man will awaken,
feeling for his soul and wonder in hunger
where it has gone.