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