On Dignity

Purpose is the marrow of man's life
Without it, he strays in idle schemes
Of power, riches, lust, and passing joys
But these are mirages, not what they seem

Man with purpose is a driven force
He spurns these things to feed his soul
He has an aim, a cause, a steadfast course
He finds the means he needs to make him whole

Some hold that work itself is purpose
That it bestows them honour and esteem
But work is but a channel, not a source
Of the living fire that fuels the free

Work can be fair or foul
It can serve the right or wrong
It can raise or raze the soul
Of the harmony and song

So we must choose our purpose well
And mould our work to suit its plan
We must seek dignity in doing good
And not in pleasing self or clan

Our time is crazed with more
More is the god of the day
But they who more adore are poor
They lose themselves in their display

How can we heal dignity in our land?
How can we laud those who love and share?
How can we hush more than we demand?
How can we help each other find our flair?

These are the questions we must weigh
If we would live with dignity and grace
We must prize purpose, not the fray
We must give more than we embrace