Equals

As treasure worn across their chest, In solemn quiet these poorest rest, Though nothing is ever quite the same, Where towers are houses for the tame, And rest their bottoms on a throne, The money spent we can't condone, Enduring times of wealth combine, A life is life through dark or shine. So be it in gold or worn out cloth, A box, a cave or a private loft, No difference shown in any breath, For soon will come, our time of death, You cannot run, bargain or beg, No point holding on, accept the dread, Be it quick or hard, in destitute or regal, We will leave once and for all, only as equals.