A poor man has riches aplenty,
He sleeps without care for wealth
While a rich man, set on only ‘he’
May be robbed by stealth.
The poor man, dressed in old clothes
His boots, of cracked worn leather
May walk safe among villains and thieves
As it can be seen, his pockets light as a feather!
The rich man, in all his ostentation
May only mingle with others of wealth
Yet even they may partake, of his fixation
For they only care, singularly for self.
Should a rich man become poor
Loose his castle and velvet drapes
Wake to find himself at the poor man’s door
With only, cracked worn boots, to traipse.
Might he learn, charity was once in his gift
Even while now, in begging penury
Does he see the poor man’s simple treasury
For what it’s worth, society’s imposed thrift.
If the poor should attain the dream
Would fabulous wealth, satisfy his desires
Or, let loose the nightmare scream
Question why such folly to acquire.
For both, is not karma, their destinies fate?
Perhaps, the next life will alter their apposition
Before their next rebirth, the time to contemplate
To precisely plan details of their next condition.