Contemplations Of A Pickpocket

What kindest stroke placed you and I,
Honest tradesmen seeking to improve
Our lot in such an emerald plane with painted crystal sky
Here to plough with divine gifts our destined course?

How to answer I know not
Though in this finest setting I intend
To let no idle sleuth with tales destroy our lot
To wich we are by nature bound by gift

Consider now how those of business here, in a sense
(Though not in those inhospitable regions of before)
Unknown to them feed us of their benevolence
Even to the emptying of their vaults

Now look ahead, a man divinely sent
From such as him we may with greatest grace
Receive alms by the giver unknowingly lent
To those such as we in need of much aid
Trying to practice our natural trade

2 thoughts on “Contemplations Of A Pickpocket

  1. Disclaimer: This poem expresses the pickpocket’s view, which is the direct opposite of my own. Nothing here is meant to be followed but was written for the enjoyment of irony.

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