Beggars Won'T Ride
Once a beggar had told me
to search the heart of God,
when night has silenced her feet
when everything that lives, is asleep
when the loud crickets has found their solitary spots
when the rats must have wrapped up their voices,
and this my arousal of pain
would be lesser than spotless dots
I looked at his lips to avoid making a revealing contact
in fear of this rage of laughter threatening to erupt
Do not will my spirit into superstitious submissions, old man
If it is so,
why then does your life bond with rags?
why then does your pockets remain stagnant?
Perhaps you had not found your wealth in God's heart
Perhaps, you had searched in daytime
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