The Shrine

Curve flips along a wrinkled face
A pearl shines in an eye bright
Tear of hunger turns happy
With a crumble of bread in sight

Richness flourishes and grows
Few miles from the shrine wide
Not a tear is seen but worried brows
Heavier their pearls, slower their stride

How the deprived outside the temple wished
That his fortune growing under the tree might heap
So did the anxious king wonder
If beggars had a merrier sleep!

Grass in the palace seems dry and cold
While that around the temple,
Though burnt seems greener,
And more spectacular than his gold!

What irony the temple mocks,
That never satisfies the soul?
The vicious circle of want and need
Makes rich and poor both bleed in greed