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We are all cut from the same cloth

Black or white. Pauper or posh

And as those veracious bubbles do froth

The truth always comes out in the wash.

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Life’s banquet is seared with many decoys

Blue, well-done, medium and rare

You can never delect in the delicious joys

Without first tasting bitter despair.

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It’s always the cruel that bloom and flourish

It beggars belief how the meek don’t inherit

We must first plant wisdom and courage

To stop them reaping from our own merit.

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Because when life is unkind

And your ducks don’t stay in a row

Sometimes you have to lose your mind

To find your soul.

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