Questions Poem by Beggar Boy

Scratching and scribblings
The idealists hatchlings
But do we have an idea or clue
About the what and the who?
With Infinity's breath
Right upon our doorstep

Have we been caught napping
In our favorite armchair?
Our hands smeared with greed and lust
Has Divinity ill-placed his trust?

Will my painted words score points?
I feel the ache in my soul-joints
Is this a joke?
Is there hope for my folk?

How I dream of the other side!
Where the shamed and the lame
Find a warm place to hide
And before the throne their thoughts confide

Is it so far off, this place?
Does Infinity have a face?
Is it at the end of the race?
In all these questions
seems like a hopeless chase