Make him a king
Who was born with a spoon of gold,
But only if
He has dined in the squalor of the poor.
Don't make him a king
If like a hawk he was born hungry,
For on his wing
He will surely prey on the awry.
Please make not a king
One who was born poor but now rich.
I know this: his eyes
Will on the humble always twitch.
Like paint
Childhood reposes on the canvas of life
Even a saint
Or a Michael has his own story.
A child born hungry
Makes a grubbing rich: always angry.
But one born wealthy
Makes a humane poor: always healthy.
Make him our king
Who was born rich but tasted our plight;
A Christ-like king
Who will always feel and heal our blight.
Beautiful! A heart of gold
Beautiful! A heart of gold will always seek for the greater good of all.
....
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
Grace
©bishu