Strange, to think that each of us <br />is filled to overflowing <br />with a treasure house of jewels; <br />sparkling when they’re known; <br />beyond price, beyond touch, <br />beyond sight – yet not beyond <br />the sensing in one other self.. <br /> <br />filled, and yet doubting, towards, even, denying.. <br />awaiting - perhaps not ardently enough? - <br />the moment when they’re called <br />to show themselves; the almost <br />(but not quite…) unimaginable <br /> <br />riches of the self..<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-riches-of-the-self/
