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/