Poverty Brings So Much
I come to you with my pockets empty
My hands are outstretched and open
With no shoes upon my feet, I walk to you
And offer a mere shell of a man, myself
I neither am nor was ever perfect, I sinned
Sorrow for those, but still I do again
Yet, I come to you with hope and prayer
I suffer poverty of integrity, show me
Lead me to the truth of self, of light
Inspire the goodness that may dwell
In the temple of my being, where resides
A flicker of hope as instilled by your virtue
I can remain with pockets empty
But in your presence, I am rich
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