The garment, simple at first, becomes more intricate
With each passing day, encrusted with gems that can only be seen in dreams
Making it appear grander, and not content to just cover one’s back
It spills into the world, the outer, whose development
Has been fastidiously fostered, the baton has never been dropped
In recorded history, while the inner lays undeveloped, harking of an age
When stone was gold, those who persevere within are exalted
As superhumans, improving the outer is easy when there is collective will
Of which there isn’t a shortage, the work performed outside brings
Enjoyment within, but cannot reveal the inner, it is a lonesome task
When that’s done, one discovers what it is to be a true human
The one who has cast off the garment dividing the outer and the inner
