Poetry

It is strange to be always envious;
to be always looking upon others
and craving that simplicity of spirit.
And yet simplicity is surely inferior.
To stand apart is to stand above.

To look, as a stranger,
upon the interests and dreams
of such lesser creatures –
and still be envious of those dreams,
is to question value and worth.

For within that simplicity
is an attainable happiness.
To be almost human;
to neither belong nor stand apart
is to be eternally unwell.