Alms to the Almighty

Everyday on the lane of a busy road
I wait for people, strangers to me
to act as good Samaritans, to stop by
me, seated with no one to support.

Across the road is a well to do shrine
with a metal box for devotees to gift
the deity for prayers to be answered
to the shrine that has men to support.

Buses come this lane with seated people
it negotiates the curve where am seated
they throw coins towards the metal box
to the shrine that has men to support.

People my way pause in their steps
they fumble deep in pockets for coins
that have long-lost value and shine
to give me, who has none to support.

I see fruit & milk flowing by the gallons
given as offerings to the deity of plenty
spending hours in queue for a glimpse
of Him in glory longing to take in more.

With an aura of blessings, they come out
crossing over to me, they just pass over
not one taking to glance at wretched me
some feign to give and walk out of sight.

It has been quite some years I shifted
place and face, sitting here for alms
to test my devotees but sorry to say
most of them failed the simple test.