Unpretty people, heartless and cold,
Their greed for profit, a story oft told.
No sympathy flows for the downtrodden’s plight,
Their eyes see only gold, no wrong or right.

Dollar signs gleam where their hearts should be,
Their profit motive blinds morality.
They’ve sold their souls for a sixpence’s gain,
A bargain with darkness, a life of disdain.

Once in the temple, tables were turned,
By He who saw greed and with anger burned.
“A den of robbers!” His voice did declare,
For prayer and peace, no room was there.

“A camel through a needle’s eye,” He said,
“Is simpler than riches leading souls to dread.
For wealth may chain what the spirit should free,
And bar the way to eternity.”

If there’s a God, justice will reign,
And the money changers will meet their pain.
Yet fear remains, will justice be served?
Or will greed’s legacy go undisturbed?

Unpretty souls, with hearts of stone,
May they find grace before the throne.
For wealth is fleeting, but love endures,
And only kindness truly cures.

by Tina Antonis