What God

Is piqued

As avoidance

Is rising

What is at risk

For blessing

For the ascetics

I know

Are like

Circling saints

Sure of gold

Without pleasure

Yet in a taste

Of boredom

Not wasted

I believe

Embattled

And raw

You’ll stroll through

With whimsy

On my side

And glee

Splattered

And dancing

Will be

Nearly nearly

Near

Even when

It all

Really really

Isn’t shiny

Framed rewards

There is still

Reward

And we can’t

Ignore

The Giver