Mendicant Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

He sits beside the sandy road
the sun is bright today
the tattered robes cling to his bones
it is his life and way

Is he a monk who lives by alms
or beggar stained with clay
who knows the heart of one who sits
and whiles his hours away

His hands are childlike in their size
once he had been a boy
but now the years have changed all that
his youth and dreams destroyed

His face and shoulders are well hid
by shadows dark with gloom
is there a chance the rays of faith
can enter than grim room

Who knows and who would dare to ask
what is this person's goal
and why he does not tread the roads
most people gladly stroll

Is there a gap or precipice
too wide to span or breach
between the meager beggar bowl
or searing faith to reach?