The antics of man
On earth betrays holiness
And slyly he slithers
In stealthly ways
Like a green mamba
Among green grass.
You may see him
In glorious panoply of hues
And in manners gentle show
Still deep in his marrow is guile.
He may demigod claim
At the slightest chance
Over some folks
Or easily underdog become
When things turn awry.
Either way there is no limit
To emptying a bag
Where his guile is treasured.
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