SOME of us are roses, Some of us are weeds; All of us began in clay, Silent little seeds. Some of us are flaunting, Some of us are shy; All of us have roots in earth, Faces to the sky. Some give joy by living, Some leave fragrance, dead; Thorns and spines and ugliness May yield balm or bread. Twisted, seared and stunted, Radiant, sweet and glad; Who shall say that one is "good" And another "bad"? |