The golden crown and the rags of gray,
Will both be turned into dust one day.
The high-walled mansion and the humble shack,
On the road of time, there is no turning back.
A heart is a heart, whether rich or poor,
Knocking alike at the final, silent door.
The blood is as red in the king as the slave,
And no silver or gold can quiet the grave.
To walk with pride and a haughty stare,
Is to build a castle out of empty air.
For wealth is a shadow that fades with the sun,
Leaving us bare when the journey is done.
The breath we breathe is the very same air,
A gift from the heavens for all to share.
No dollar can buy a soul that is true,
Or change the reflection of the real, inner you.
So tear down the walls of the high and the low,
And let the seeds of true kindness grow.
For in the eyes of the truth, we are one and the same,
Just humans wandering, regardless of name.