The Beggar

A hundred thousand feet–
To and fro they go
All day long they cease to stop–
Them hurrying father's feet
Unto his children go
And them anxious lover's feet
Onto his lady-love.

But not a single one does stop,
To grace a beggar's pleading call:
If not to flick a coin or two,
Then to let me somehow know,
That I was breathing too…

A few do stop–
To stand and stare
With pity-filled eyes
And generous hands–
The few who flick and feed,
Oh, they make my day!

A few do stop–
To mock and laugh
A few do stop to curse.
All day long they cease to stop,
Oh, their day I make!

I pity them all–
Them hurrying feet,
Forever cursed to carry
Aimless heads and arrogant hearts,
And wallets full of peace-less money.

I pity them still–
Them walking corpses
With bulging pockets,
But bloodless hearts:

They know not love,
Nor sleep nor peace.
They know not how
The night sky feels.
For, they never have seen
The brilliant stars,
And never beheld
The beautiful moon.

They never have known
To jump with joy.
They never have known to cry…

For all they do is run–
Head bent down
And eyelids shut;
They know not dusk,
They see not dawn!

Oh, how I yearn,
To flick and feed
A drop of joy,
An ounce of love,
Unto them walking corpses–
For as rich they are
In vaults and coffers,
Pity do I,
Their penniless hearts.

I pity them all–
Them joyless feet:
From morn till eve,
They hurry me past,
And all day long, they cease to stop;
Them loveless feet
That make me rich,
Oh, they make my day!

~ Pradeep CE 🙂