Luxury

by Cliff Lake

What shall we say of the little luxuries?
Not so much,
Or everything,
Though they matter not
Outside of the personal demesne.
Which have you taken up,
Misunderstood but precious?
What small tickle do you keep?
Not some ravishing obsession,
Expensive and selfish,
But that private spark,
Closely guarded,
Indulged in,
Having little import in the wide scheme,
But valued just the same.
What secret vanity have you,
Or,
What fixture gives you the modest delight,
Yours alone,
Winked at by the peer,
Fostered by the loving.
Some bauble,
An entertainment,
The hobby,
Or the favored spot in the sun…
Such as these
May provide more rest
Than a harsh chemical,
Or too much acquiescence
To unwieldy demand.
So many of the very powerful
Wear so sour the countenance:
Satisfaction will never be theirs.
Do not weep for them,
That is the dream they purchased.
Yet you may find contentment, yes?
That piece of music,
The television show,
The coins caught in their special folder,
Meager to some,
Silly to others,
But their meaning beyond the grasp
To any but you:
This is your place in the madness,
This is where you are,
Where you can come back to yourself,
For long enough
To gather your wits about you,
And face all the chaos that this world is.
What shall we say of the little luxuries?
They may matter not
Outside of your demesne - 
They are not so much.
They are everything.

Cliff Lake 12/25/2025
Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025.