I BEG

rich vs the poor

Round a table six men sit

A feast of blessings surrounds

Their glorious feet

Out of a corner two sets of eyes gaze

Shadows out of many

Hastened not a single beat

Amidst the tatter worn out clothes

Souls are hungry of mercy, and cries

Least be given a piece of pity

A chunk of compassion

A chance not a single stands

All is done and not that’s left

Went their way without a single glance

At a sumptuous room

And where all it’s from.

They passed the souls of weary and palled

If only they could touch

A single crumb

It would be heaven glorious profound.