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.
Linda McGeary
(c) 10.10.95
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