Equality

Hat or crown or even bald
though I cast a shadow ten feet long
and am able to spread my influence
over countless souls and thoughts,
still I am a heartbeat,
a breath, which evaporates immediately,
one period on the lines of history.

To strut or march as if a god
even stroll with humble hunched position
the end of the parade
comes at the same location,
no matter if our steps took years
or lasted only a few seconds.

We are the mirage of tomorrow’s reflections
the sum of hands that fade into oblivion.
How we gaze at the sun and wish to be a star,
think our image can shine so brilliant,
never dull in the ebb of twilight.

Yet, when that final flicker flashers
when our gale of life turns to wisp,
shall we know the true equality
if we didn’t learn it while alive,
that at the cemetery finish line
none gets other than the same laurel
marked RIP.