Reaching for the sandalwood and cinnamon finding the fowl odiferous malignancy of humanhood gone so wrong. Melodious, putrefied embolism pock mark the face of reason tampering with character formation and delimiting time everlasting. A breath of crisp mountain air in mind I stumble through the broken bones and shards of man’s happenstance, confronted by stench, eyesore and social puss. Knowing well what looms in dark places I confine myself to gray. The world lurks.

Not cries but agony filled moans search the night for hearts conquered and squelched in merciless fear. Poverty and plenty mix producing the black market youth and pick pockets born to sell themselves in any manner possible survival simple purpose. Tenants of the forgotten, of no value to anyone but God and a weapon for kings to use against the prosperous in threatening their contrition. Eyes empty as the soul behind them peer at me praying somehow to free me from my scabbard and wishing for my cold cotton socks of shoes without hole. The delirium of men’s rotted fantasy found in impoverished children. How morally repugnant a man who would be found in confines improper to slake the call to temptation’s feast.

No counted children, no tears for the last breath of baby’s passing, no roster or health and welfare review but those who seek their capture. Hide them each Mother presumes, floor boards, attic or basement room especially the girls as these frumpish men take special care to make memories of their plunder. Of that which they are deprived by God they take making themselves feel the power of destruction having been denied creation’s gift of love. We look away from such, praying to forget or dull our senses to the existence of their ardor. What happy picnic may the masses find knowing that millions of children this very night will be sacrificed upon the altars of men’s call to anti gods. The refuse of one’s plight it is jettisoned with properly fragranced baggage to curbside.

What then do we feel is proper for God’s allowance to downtrodden, ragged or impoverished? Shall He ponder special exception for the poor used by the rich as play time asset? What they have been denied by leisurely life let them gain in grace, mercy and provision of stout heart of hope and wonder. What prescience the young woman possess telling her of life everlasting and rest found in a saving God? Shall the message poor to preached reach more deeply than suburban cradles mooring? Shall those of meager means be given a gift beyond comprehension in this life owing all to the next? What dreams a man may have who has nothing on plate or cupboard? What special strength of heart and courage given to the impoverished warrior fighting hard to reach the mountain where he may reside at the footsteps of his Lord. What reward is there in God’s placement in poverty if not the aspiration of escape whether in this life through social climbs or in the next by deliverance?