White or black
lies wear garb
but their foes stand bare;
don't they feel like a barb ?
They fly and roam
but their rivals
rest on a guard;
as placid as gnome !
They have wings
what take the credulous off
from the rough runway
daily or very often.
On every joy-ride
comes thrill and fun;
too momentary though !
Their enemies are poised
but walk too very slow!
Who bothers what will happen
in very long run?
Isn't life a crash course?
One and just for once, of course?
What if one takes such a chance
and joins fools in their paradise
defying the sages` furnace ?
Do butterflies ever care ,
each of them will turn a caterpillar ?
