A poem.

A glimpse I caught - or so I thought,
of a priceless, pure, precious pearl.
This pearl I sought, without much thought
by any ruthless or cunning plot.

In delusion and confusion,
hypocrisy feigned purity,
as in feeding the hungry,
I tried to store up surity.

But all my good deeds are worthless,
and filthy rags make filthy dress.
my righteousness buys so much less
than that pearl I cannot purchase.

But it was then that he saw me.
He the true pearl was cruely mocked.
He sold himself and I was bought:
I'm the pearl he ceaselessly sought.

And now I know where he is found:
not by feeding, not by earning,
not bought by my tending his health,
but found in the hungry himself...