To A Snob

To A Snob

Oh you fabulous idiot snob.
You were too great to help me.
Your casual afternoon became my disaster.
Towering you stood above your puny world
like a grape towers above a speck of sand.

But now my anger abates, and I
see that I long for you
and your world.
I long for the message of oneness
that is out of my control.

Cursed be
the notion of station high and low.
Those that subscribe to high and low
can only know the high they know
and the low they dread to go –
it all spans an inch, a mere inch.

I say God’s infinite cosmic span
holds you like a speck of sand.
You and I, my friend,
are neither high nor low,
merely unfinished.

– Nayak Polissar.

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