Point of View

Have you ever been poor,
But you went up to the door
And looked through the window?
You can see the inside
But the treasures you can't buy.

People pass with charity in their eyes.
Your fears and phobias combining;
Your heart is unwinding
To the sorrowful world around you
Keeping you from being able to win,
And from being able to lose.
That's one point of view.

Have you ever been rich with possessions galore
That keep you wanting more and more?
With a stingy heart and cold mind,
Thinking you're twisted all in a bind;
Thinking that there's no way out;
Leaving your mind in a doubt,
Your thoughts can be as sticky as glue;
Your life is like a play -- always on cue.
That's another point of view

You look at the possibilities life has planned out.
Would you rather be poor and know what life's all about;
Honest and sincere;
Leaving your path clear?
Or would you rather be rich,
All right on the outside, but on the inside so alone;
Your head as dense as stone?
"Life is unfair," I hear people say,
But that's only because we make it that way.

Copyright © 1998 by Shana Wilson

Shana's Poetry Page