Sound Investment

I made a sound investment, late last year,
Now bearing fruit — that’s money, boys, not cherries —
Allowing me to fill the reliquaries
With good bones and a proven Virgin’s Tear.
I almost bought a Roman soldier’s spear,
But this guy claimed he’d said sixteen Hail Marys
In sixteen seconds. I threw down two sherries,
Looked at the goods twice, and threw myself clear.

So now I’m still holding plenty of cash,
Debating if I’m hearing the word, “Hark!”
Or just a hopeful echo in the dark,
Sudden belief, too true or just too rash.
I want to think this bit of silver ash
Was once a Burning Bush; see this odd mark?