An Immutable Identity

He who steals my purse
Steals some trash;
He who thinks he has
My identity assumed
Let him try my shoes for size;
A beggar, and a thief to boot
He shall still remain.
Does he see the face of Heaven
In its many moods?
Or waning moon and stars
As I see them or laugh at fears
That fly by night?
Oh no!
Judas he shall ever be.
For what worth is it then to him
But a rope to swing from,
Worth some pieces of silver?
benny