The learned mendicant kneels
As evening blankets the day
Sister moon
Shines brightly
Silhouetted
The discalced poet
With eyes closed
Remembers
All is not what was learned
Before enlightenment
Poetry remained
But it has begun to fade
Amid the cries of
Casualties of war
The poor
The persecuted
The distressed
The oppressed
The exploited
The trafficked
So many more
The mendicant stands
Tears flow
As he whispers:
“Children of the earth
Look around
This is all there is”