Poor and Needy, Lonely, Sad

Poor and needy, lonely, sad! Come!
Barter happiness for a bag of trinkets!

Tendered as real currency; maybe there is love
somewhere in the wrapping of the bigger picture,
but no imaginative flow or fingers of the soul
can find a buried treasure when heart belies the fact.

On stepping stones of heart
over rivers of deceit to banks of certain truth
a rocky journey arduous
for the poor and lonely, weak,
until pennies fall from heaven
but I know that cannot be.

Pennies, cents, and dollars, the currency of life,
not viable in heaven or the maybe/perhaps
lifetime after death
but without a money crutch
heart becomes a tinkling harp
in the big brass band
of this reality’s demands.

And I see my heart falling, down, down, down,
to the depths of heartlessness decreed as a means
of skimming surface needs
until pennies fall from heaven
but I know that cannot be
because love always comes for free!