I have seen a poverty of poverty,
a wealth that is gangrenous,
stinking rich – revoltingly so – it sows
seeds of death and feeds us with a
hunger for what matters less.
I have also seen a plenitude in
a panoply of one,
a satisfaction in
contraction – ever aiming at slight:
a flicker not bright,
a whisper in the wind,
a shadow on the wall,
a slipping through the crowd,
a fleeting glimpse– yet enough:
a shade that fades into more.