Picture Courtesy: www.istockphoto.com
As though it were a shirt,
All want to be part of
The fabric in its makeup,
So they can fit in.
Nothing special,
Commonplace,
Mundane,
That’s fitting in,
Like threads in a fabric,
Difficult to tell one from the other,
Indistinguishable,
Far from remarkable,
They’re all the same.
I choose to be the buttons on that shirt,
Like a purple thread running
Down the middle of a piece of white cloth,
So bright and graceful,
Remarkably different,
It makes all else appear more beautiful.
Why then should you expect me,
Make myself like the many,
Tow a common line,
Or walk a path already traversed by many,
If I ever did that,
How then can I remain a button?
How then do I remain a purple thread?
Beauty and inexplicable satisfaction lies in being one and of a kind notable for one particular thing. Most people are other people and its a shame when we live in other people's shadows. I agree with you Sir. I strive also to be a button no matter what.... inspiring Phil
ReplyDelete