Naked
Naked we all entered this world;
without blemish or care;
as reality continues to unfold;
we worry over what to wear.
We seek to disguise who we are;
afraid that others might see;
tho you may find the truth, bizarre;
you are a lot like me.
It matters little if we paint our face;
or go barefoot; without shoes;
nothing can ever hide our disgrace;
we become whatever we choose.
We seek admiration for our raiment;
we think we are what we wear;
fine clothes are inadequate payment;
for our unwillingness to care.
Most think that life is all about them;
claiming to contribute to charity;
yet all who are poor; they condemn;
their only concern is prosperity.
In death; we are naked once more;
our reality; no longer hidden;
many become; what they deplore;
in death some are guilt ridden.
All scars of life we try to cover;
by any manner we can;
in life’s end; we shall discover;
all are naked, once again.
Monty 11/11/23. # 1,852