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Poem

I am wondering why in those gloomy moments
lived away from everybody who said prayers 
I haven't reached any sublime joy...
or even the ecstatic feeling of purity
that many saints got looking at the magnificent heaven;
are these sins holding me back and pushing me down,
so I can't rise up and give my praises God? 
Is the bright angel of light offering me gold?

Greed is gratification of the bizarre mind,
a persuasive voice demanding loyalty;
should one default: all crashes down rapidly
along with the intent to do harm, not good.

Discontinue your relationship with Satan, or the secretive 
Illuminati: consider your wealth no longer a lasting treasure, 
that possession reflected on that look of disgraceful vanity;
whoever has been a victim can return to the God of eternity,
and He will forget your inequity when showing repentance 
and a desire to stay free of inequities and reject vengeance. 

Are these sins holding me back, why haven't I known prosperity?
I struggled and filled my basket with stones, not with delicious fruits;
I didn't deserve a bountiful harvest: I refused to kneel down and pray:
Sin is separation from holiness, a choice that defiles conscience;
despair all you want, beat your chest and wail: God will not answer;
a meek being is favored over a wealthy one, it's a grand promise
never to be broken by the Almighty who holds the hand of the believer.

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