Sonnet 520

We are all different and yet still the same

Here from that common mold of human kind;

Clear contrasts much a boon and yet a bane

That can both link us and still cleave in time.

We shadow dark the strange of mortal thought

While from the strange new innovation springs,

Group thinking oft to ride the orthodox

While relishing the gifts invention brings.

We criticize the things we cannot grasp,

Disparaging van dreams not understood

Yet when impossible from whims amass,

We swiftly praise the strains of common good.

So quick to measure by some pious score;

All men the same, but clearly, some the more.

Loubert S Suddaby poems