Ones

A person as one is a wonderful thing, A person as group is dehumanizing. A man as one has a heart, mind, and soul, A man as group is but one more dang fool. A woman as one can think and decide, A woman as group, just along for the ride. The soul and mind, they belong to the one The group, it has neither, its course is run By the one who is loudest, and who lays claim To the minds of the ones, and to their names. But the one who is loudest, remains nothing more Than a one with limits, and flaws by the score. The one is the real, concrete, and alive, Group is abstraction, a crutch for our minds. The one can be measured, touched, and weighed The group is just ones temporarily arranged. To claim ones are but groups is calamity, You diminished the form of their humanity. Some can’t see the ones, so many they march The groups seem simpler, to know and to mark. They say you’re nothing, the group’s what you are That without their help, your ‘kind’ won’t get far. Black, white, *****… they must label what they see They forget a one is all we’ll ever be. They forget that souls are one of a kind, They ignore the impulse that drives in our minds, They insult the ones who see, unafraid, The truth of the species as it was made. They think we are playthings, and like to pretend But we’re all simply ones, from now to the end.