A Short Walk

I heard of deacons, those souls devout,
Whose calling reaches those without.
A reverend's plea, a longing deep,
For one who cares for the poor, their souls to keep.

But how does wealth affect our hearts' delight?
Can income sway the way we see the light?
No, it's not in gold or silver's gleam,
But in empathy's glow, a compassionate dream.

The deacon's task, to lend a caring hand,
To understand the struggles, to truly understand.
For poverty's grasp, a burden hard to bear,
Yet kindness knows no income, no wealth to compare.

In this conversation, a lesson unfolds,
That in our shared humanity, true value holds.
Beyond the trappings of wealth's facade,
The honest liking of the poor, a beacon to laud.