One Summer Morning

I always drew pleasure from counting
possessions.
I believed in artifacts of fleeting permanence,
never confessions.
but Grandeur and Greed can only go so far.

I awoke to clear vision one summer morning,
the voice of a sensible spirit echoed in my ear,
and the weight of her words clinging to my breast.
I couldn't deny that she had been right,
for all my life I'd been winning
a trivial fight.

It's about time to abandon the seeming
and peruse my heart for something of meaning.