Opulence

Opulence surrounds me.

Penetrating perfume, marble floors,

staff everywhere

perfecting everything.

Why are rich indulged with beauty,

while poor are starved?

Pristine white orchids,

a crystal clear pool,

while men covered

from head to toe

in the heat,

scrape, paint, drill.

Money attempting to

whitewash sorrow.

The shiny and new

distracting from the

wisdom of grief.

Wealth prescribes

a superficial life,

isolating and difficult.

Money –

to possess

can only claim the soul

with choice.

Abundance

is already ours within.

Beauty imagined

is Heaven now

or never.