A Wanderer's Feast

On the day we celebrated the almighty's mercy

A wanderer sought kindness at my humble abode, 

Uncertain whether to knock or depart silently

Unsure if his plea would welcome a callous stare.

His parched tongue, a desert longing for rain,

And hunger's torment, his weary soul's bane.

Amidst abundance, as we feasted our riches,

He longed for a taste of life's grand design.

His pride, his only possession, kept his arms at bay, 

Yet his eyes beseeched, yearning for a kind gaze.

No silver he seeks, just remnants of their fulness, 

To quell and deafen his rumbling stomach.

I stood with an open heart and a welcoming door, 

Envisioning a day at the majestic gate like him,

Carrying my intangibles, virtues in my hold, 

Seeking divine grace, my celestial reward in store.  

I took him no beggar but my intimate guest, 

Till his countenance bloomed with a content smile.

'Twas not mere repast, but the true feast for my soul, 

For both he and I, our spirits were made whole.