All that glitter do not shine,
for surely lost in the lore
of our ancestors of mankind
know of appreciation and more.

A tree that might wither in soil
shall agreeably meet its doom,
but though it may suffer this toil,
is it not left for flowers to bloom?

A man who's strength is all spent
like a sponge in a mop that can't absorb,
shall arise once more to repent
and to success he shall surely go towards

A spirit broken with sorrow,
soaking in a pond of pity,
shall be example of the true and narrow
to purge the child of their humidity.

A child wreathed with anger,
though like a phoenix ignited with gas,
will learn but a way of life, stranger,
than all of that which we may allow to pass.

All things on Earth, ignoring their flaw,
exist in perfection
it just requires a law;

Gold Might Not Glitter, But It Can Shine..