Were the sky an egg, the sun would be its yolk
Were it an artwork, the painter will be God
If rain was virgin silver escaping from heaven’s treasure house
Men would line up in their numbers to be the first to be drenched
If earth was a building of precious stones
Wouldn’t you want a place right in the middle?
If a man’s heart was a treasure laddened ship
Every woman will want to be the one on the rudder
If teardrops were to scorch the skin as they glide
Would many a trivial matter warrant a cry?
If lies came to pass like prophecies
How many will dare lie about a beloved ones death
Were birds to compete with their songs
Would the raven win any prize?
If flowers are fine petals without thorns
Would the rose be famed as fair?
The snail cannot outrace the hare
Light is always faster than sound
So a scramble for what is not yours
Leaves you bruised and covered in sores.