Riches

The riches of the poor don’t need a vault

It cannot be stored, it is everywhere, like salt

Nature is the benevolent keeper

Of that wealth, which time makes dearer

The rich suffer from a poverty which cannot be cured by money

Stored in metal hives, a thought of it sweetens the mind like honey

Its never shared, the mind acquiesces to the stingy bookkeeper

It does not want the bitter experience of a pauper

We mix in our assets and liabilities with thoughts

Two strings which tie the mind in knots

Rich or poor, they are not controlled by such decree

Enjoyment can remain pure and free

Nature won’t care if we gift each other its sunrise

Even the mind cannot assign a value to such a prize

We are all rich in the eyes of a child

We inflict poverty’s pain on others if that nature gets defiled