The Descent Of Man
A right of birth, your worth is not
And neither free nor due,
But only earned in higher thought
And never brawn in lieu.
Your virtue not within your race,
Inherently with you,
One cause alone may form your grace,
The aim your life is to.
A heart of lust and shallow trust,
A virus from within,
A blight upon the fair and just,
To fall beside their kin.
A creature no longer required,
An ape in human skin,
To follow savage, wild desire
And pledge their lives to sin.
A race apart from faith and art,
A broken, godless clan.
No wisdom or verse to impart,
An empire built in sand.
Can we now find ourselves surprised
If our own souls are damned
To look at ourselves, open eyed,
And witness modern man.