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