Widows cry upon a bed,
absent from the carrying.
Children hold out empty bowls,
searching for the sharing.
Candles burn both day and night,
the halls are filled with laughter.
Priest they set and count the coins,
from the debts of sins there after.
Preying on the simple man,
plucking him of deeds.
Who's absent from GODs wisdom,
Cause he knows not to read.
There's no such thing has a holy man,
who don't meet another's needs.
Many men have lost all things,
and still they cannot see.
Everyman in lifes the same.
greed unto themselves,
Born to die within their sins,
their sins and nothing else.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
so share and love and bless the others be it neighbors, cops or warm lovers