The Giving To Beggars

The giving to beggars, those small acts of kindness. The look faced in their eyes, the hardships that bind us. They regard what is joy, as a cloud in the sky. dreaming of its capture, having no wings to fly. Others have great castles, chariots of fire. They have a cage with wheels, to push through the mire. They do it not to scam, people think it's all fake. yet have no idea, The love that they forsake. To the gods of money, falling like silent tears. Prayers from quivering lips. when help rarely appears. They greet the bright morning, with clothes that are soiled. Just like the fitful dreams, that are sunrise spoiled. Warm that heart beating cold, the gods are keeping track. One day you might just see, an old friend bearing lack. His having no money, he looks up with lost eyes. Filled with a look of shame, he hangs his head and sighs. The end comes for us all, there will be no crying. for the clouds, we'll capture, without even trying!