Thick ivy grows upon the towering wall
that blocks the passing people from my view.
I know that I can't join their bustling ranks
because they don't agree with what I do.
This life I call my own is really their's
because their rules declare that this is so.
If I rebel, they would not tolerate
it but would want to see my blood flow.
And though we both call this land our home,
we yet share nothing but this common place,
and for true friendship I must turn and look
to towns where there is not a single trace
of vulturism, greed, and all such hate.
At "home" those hates are driving forces now;
they rule the hearts and minds of everyone
who wouldn't otherwise stoop quite so low.
So only much diversity can bring
the ivy-covered wall to humblness
and force the rigid stones to tolerate
so that we may find truth and happiness.