Born Brothers

 Equality is absolute or no.
 
Nothing between can stand.
 We are the sons 
Of the same sire, or madness breaks and runs 
Through the rude world.
 Ridiculous our woe 
If single pity does not love it.
 So 
Our separate fathers love us.
 No man shuns 
His poorest child's embrace.
 We are the sons 
Of such, or ground and sky are soon to go.
 

Nor do born brothers judge, as good or ill, 
Their being.
 Each consents and is the same, 
Or suddenly sweet winds turn into flame 
And floods are on us--fire, earth, water, air 
All hideously parted, as his will 
Withdraws, no longer fatherly and there.

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