Some of us are roses,
Some of us are weeds;
All of us began in clay,
Silent little seeds.
Some of us are flaunting,
Some of us are shy;
All of us have roots in earth,
Faces to the sky.
Some give joy by living,
Some leave fragrance, dead;
Thorns and spines and ugliness
May yield balm or bread.
Twisted, seared and stunted,
Radiant, sweet and glad;
Who shall say that one is “good”
And another “bad”?