The rags he wore his pride,
the empty pouch his vacant lie,
but a soul as bright as rapturous stars,
heaven pinned in boulevards of time.
His step were tenuous,
bare footed and generous,
eyes as clear as morning light,
glistening in the darkest ebony night.
Passers by would glance fleetingly,
judging his bedraggled shell,
yet no-one knew his mind so well
as to realize his worth.
A soul stripped of all the lies,
joyous mind no compromise,
had driven him be nothing other
than himself, one true vessel of love.
And some stared unknowingly,
feeling the light within him shine,
to remind them his visage was no indication
of the souls that stood before them.
His face was soiled yet somehow youthful,
and his feet blackened from the streets,
he held prayer beads in his left hand,
his steps so steady and fluid, his smile a treat.
His shaved head glistened in the street lights,
wooden staff to guide his steps,
robes so simple and threadbare,
yet all that was not his care.
His treasure lay within,
freedom his polished acronym,
and few could see where wisdom nested,
yet his heart was full and love invested.
Peace had found a soul complete,
in kindness and love he rested whole,
and people rushed by here and there,
rarely seeing this one giving man, prosper.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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