In the world of the wealthy pavements are plated in gold,
No one intrudes into another’s space
And there’s time to admire the sunflower.
On the other side of the class divide, garbage heaps adorn the streets,
Everyone bumps into everyone
And fights with stones and nails are a sacred ritual as they struggle to maintain an equilibrium of backwardness.
In that cocoon of affluence where the rich converge to dine,
Wine glasses are of the most exquisite and tasteful kind.
But the poor are out there in their arena of poverty jostling over the leftovers abandoned by the menacing dogs of the wealthy.
In the world of the rich the code is to keep raising the equilibrium point of success.
This paints a clear picture of the haves and have-nots.
Coherent and poignant. Well crafted, and too true.
Such a potent poem on the sad but common divide between those who have wealth and those who don’t.
Thank you!