Destiny Exchange Poem by Charles Karia

This is what happens to my servants,
Who crave the gifts of the wicked;
The politician who sold his mother,
For a car and a house in the suburbs
The trader who sells goods that kill,

These need not the way of holiness;
In wicked altars and secret societies,
They've been taught the Namaan principle:
If harlot prince gifts are freely taken,
At a genuine altar of the most high,
A supernatural exchange takes place.

The priest takes the gold and vanity,
Plus leprosy and some for his children.
And Namaan goes home healed,
To bow again at the temple of his god,
Knowing he has rescued his destiny,
For spiritual principles abide forever.