Hollow Sting

Through quiet echoes of my soul,

Lies a yearning to feel whole.

Not just through wealth, but through thought,

A peace so rare, yet deeply sought.

Money whispers of what could be,

A canvas blank, a chance to see.

Yet its absence breeds a hollow sting,

A muted hope, a clipped-winged spring.

But deeper still, beneath the weight,

Lives a strength to recreate.

To shift the lens, to see anew,

The worth within, the endless view.

For I am more than coins and gold,

A spirit fierce, a story bold.

And as I learn to heal and grow,

The seeds of abundance begin to show.

Through struggle's fire, a light does gleam,

A future shaped by hope's bright dream.

Not just in wealth, but in the grace,

To find contentment in this space.