Too Much Is Not Enough Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

A gilded cage, bars unseen, spun of silk and desire.
More. A whisper, a gnawing, a phantom limb.
Screens flicker, a deluge of curated lives,
each a polished shard reflecting back,
a hollow echo of more.

The feast laid out, a grotesque abundance,
yet the palate remains unsated.
A hunger that stretches, a void that expands,
a bottomless pit lined with fleeting pleasures.

We chase the shimmering mirage,
the next acquisition, the next validation,
the next fleeting high,
believing that more will finally fill the aching space.

But the space yawns wider,
a black hole, devouring moments,
devouring connection,
devouring the quiet joy of enough.

The paradox:
in the relentless pursuit of more,
we lose sight of the simple, the tangible,
the breath in our lungs,
the warmth of a hand,
the quiet wonder of being.

Too much is not enough,
because the hunger is not for things,
but for a wholeness we cannot buy,
a presence we cannot manufacture,
a peace we cannot consume.

The true abundance lies not in more,
but in the quiet recognition of enough,
in the gentle unfolding of what is.