Aye all men are born equal...
Not perhaps in strength or intellect,
Not for sure in the wealth they inherit.
Not all are born with a silver spoon,
Or with beauty of a spring bloom.
Yet all men at the start of their life,
Have boundless dreams equally rife.
Fire in their hearts that burns so bright,
A light that could lead them in the darkest night.
Aye all men do remain equal...
Till they for their noble dreams strive,
And the flame of hope is kept alive.
Until the worldly wisdom dawns,
And they slowly learn to bow down.
Till they trade their cherished dreams,
And in the process lose their self esteem.
Their soul corrupt and self betrayed,
Slowly they fade into the swamp of slaves.
Aye all men are born equal...
Not all make it big, get famous or get rich,
Just that some strive to the very last ridge.
No matter where they fall or how they fall,
As long as that they don’t stall.
For what matters more is not where you start, but where you end,
The journey you make till you relent.
How you spend those unforgiving moments,
Fill them thus that there is nothing to repent.
