Daily
the sun reveals
from cities across the world
Magnificence of the structures,
but at the bottom side 
Of all the magnificence,
I see shadows
Dark in appearance,
as if cast mischievously
By the sun’s radiations,
On earth, evoking
the colorless cloud of 
Poverty hovering 
over haggard figures 
In the procession of 
“the Destitute”
In routine march past
In search of sustenance, 
and I ponder quietly,
At the source
Of this seemingly dirty stain
On our splendor.