The Thief Poem by Albert Ahearn

Recently, I read Kahil Gibran’s prose' The Criminal”. I have read it at least two other times in the past but this recent read had effected me more so than the past reads. So much so, that I was inspired to write this sonnet not too long after I put the book down.
In Gibran’s prose the man from the beginning was poor. How he winds up, to me, at least seemed fated.
In my sonnet, in the first quatrain I added the God Moros (God Of Destiny) to build on my theme (Fate)


The stars were dim when he entered as man.
The angry Moros god unfurled his wrath
on mothers womb, thus poverty began
its dolorous debilitating path.
His youthful foes were painful hunger-pangs.
He'd sit at byways begging alms to no
avail. Idle dinner bells ne'er rang.
He'd think, when might I eat? He didn't know.
Unfed and desperate he took to theft.
Thus headed for the corner grocer's store.
A stolen staple booty was fetched, but yet
a meal was not in store-seized at the door!
Predetermined ill fate forced him to steal
obtaining an incarcerated meal.