When We Have Nothing....

as there are too many
tiny little things
dripping from my hands
like sands,

like time seemingly
without end like a road
heading somewhere
and we are having no
gasoline

where can appreciation lie?
where can worship be found?

it is only when there is less
when time runs out
when there is no more food
and space is cut into pieces

that we learn,
and learn that well enough.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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