One Gap To Another

The diary of time flips back its pages to that familiar date

When you and I were holding hands, blissfully thanking fate 

That I found your money too darn glittery to steal                                                                                 

 And said, “You and I, are rich and poor but too young to feel.”                                                                   

Then a constant in the equation of perception, vicious green note

Kept the two hearts apart, strangled in this seemingly wide social gap.                                                        

Today, you parked your shiny wagon outside my humble dwelling                                                               

And entered the universe of a poor man’s helpless have-nothing-entity.

I reiterated, “You and I, rich and poor are too wide apart in fate to change.”                                                

A hug, a teary reunion; the cruel ostensible gap was never the same.                                                                 Words wove thoughts that led to knowledge that is when the green bills                                                       Shrank in lieu to this giant wise old man that brought us close.                                                                  Evolution of destiny with all the power it possessed,

 In that world where you and I, were never again rich and poor.                                                                         Now, the gap; a petty variable to the same old rusty equation                                                                 

Which was re-balanced on a scale that outran notes and bills.                                                                             As light brought on the dawn of time, I saw us together again                                                                

Despite the rules dictated by the so called courteous social strata.                                                             

 We were holding hands again, but I not poor; you not rich.                                                                                                                                                                                                     Transcendence was brought upon by that wise old man that                                                                       

Said it right, “we are all rich and poor, but in our knowledge                                                                         

That keeps us burning every day, the money never really had a say.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

 Laughing at the costly lunacy that kept us away, fools were we                                                                  

To believe that a tomorrow won’t come for us to be together                                                                        

 “No gap, not rich, not poor. But just you and me, just entity. ”                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

 No! The scary ghost of the once famed ostensible gap was never put to rest,

It still lurks the dark alleys of life, not knowing that knowledge                                                                    

Is the salvation to its ghostly affairs. The gap of haves and have-nots                                                         Giving its way to another one; of know-hows and know-nots.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Beware; do not let this ghostly gap keep you from your destiny, not again,                                                 Whispers the wise old man. Alas! Out of transition, transcendence is born.