The Fool / The Pauper

The fools sits on the edge of a table. Behind him the remains of a meal. It is not clear that it was his. Neither the little dog, who arches into the air in hopes of the scraps. He has only what he can carry and the light of the coming day. He is his own. At this moment he is richer than the merchant who scatters coins on the ground. Richer than kings. Richer than the emperor with the wealth of nations and the empress clothed in garments of gold. He has spent none of his possibilities. They are safeguarded inside him. He begins to spend his life now. Wish him well. May he spend it all and spend it well.