We are human beings.
We are imperfect beings.
We need to aspire
to be
all that we can be.
Yet so often
partners, friends,
colleagues,
chance people
we may meet
upon a myriad
of random streets.
Will may strive
to bring us down
to a mundane
common baser level.
It is a terrible thing.
When the bell of virtue.
People will not let us ring.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/human-beings-8/
