Tithes

I’ve offered my tithes;

stacks of inoffensiveness,

seeking my Urim and Thummin

and returned home

with nothing.

The temple, the storehouse

were full of tares,

and my adding chaff wheat

made me even more culpable.

I crossed the River of Poison,

thinking desire

could somehow fulfill me,

and returned home

still lacking.

My spiritual dullness;

my homage to person

made my mecca a prison:

I faced East

and saw nothing.