Sonnet 520

We are all different and yet still the same
Here from that common mold of human kind;
Clear differences 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. All Rights Reserved.

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