Why is it so the elite and very rich rarely go
From the blind side of self to admit and (truly) know
They are the power and arbiters of human fate:
For the poor made weak, whose destiny is the mad gate
Of all world sorrow and the Weltschmertz of pain outside
The bright Light of hope for those millions so sad denied?
Are they humans of mean intent who care not a whit
For those apart the burgeoning whorl of power consummate?

In towers of concrete, steel and glass - the rich consort,
They see not the plight of those without a Caring Port.
Yet on the merry-go-round they go, "reaching for the stars"
And blind success, devoid of heart (a wealth of loving scars);
While even those who Love in vain, in honest Giddiness,
Find the self fulfilled in Life's full cup of happiness.