There is a way to carry your riches

a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

Maybe the hands, that asked you for help,

Were the hands of the lord you see,

Even if you are sure they were not,

yet that's the criteria you see.

On the day of judgement,

He will divide the sheep and goat,

He will welcome sheep home,

Telling them welcome home.

They will ask him,

When did we take care of you,

He will say when you did it

For the least, you did it for me

There is a way to carry your gold with you

Right In the next world,

What you invest in the poor,

Will be with you in heavens above

Store, not your money,

Where moth destroys,

Store, not your money,

Where thieves steel.

Exchange your currency,

In heavenly rewards,

I tell you to add to your worth.

You'll be rewarded afterwards