" THE BEADSMAN "

The ancient beadsman could hear no more
For money, had corrupted his prayers,
Even St. Anselm could not teach him of God
And so the angels had corrupted, his ears,
Pain, coursed through his soul in layers...

Some years ago, before he'd heard the calling
He had asked of God, guidance and light
Up rose a feeling, a feeling of free-falling
A purity of purpose, in which his soul did delight
And so Joy, coursed through him, manifesting as prayers...

But that stock did thin, as money began its seduction,
The beadsman with broken memory became, respected
Dangling, this way and that, the devious devil began his induction
Affording him finery from the family's of hope, which he directed
Self importance, coursed through his shining ego, in layers....

Until one day, a small child, gave her only gold coin
In hopes the beadsman could plead for her Mother's health,
He took her gold, but never bent his knee to conjoin
The promise to the child, more concerned with his wealth,
He fluttered inside, as a dry sickness began eating, his prayers...

The ancient beadsman, awoke the very first Sunday
After having forgotten the child, forgotten his calling,
Forgotten Love as well, and so into a soundless fate
He fell, and deeply afraid, he dared to pray
But no sound, no answer, no whisper came
For his offense was so ungodly,
So unabashedly born of shame,
That forever in silence,
His soul did remain,
In the deepest
Pool,
Of reflection....

Tony Taylor.  (Chicago)