That which is a man is judged
Based on what we see,
Much like what is left
Of this old hollow tree.
We see the outer shell --
Crusty, hard and worn --
Shaped by daily living
Life since he was born.
What we often fail to see
Is that which lies within;
Hidden deep inside of him
Beneath his outer skin.
Sometimes he is hollow,
Just like this rotten log;
There's nothing there but emptiness
Filled with vaporous fog.
If you want to know the man
The most important part
Is to look down deep inside of him
Into his beating heart.
That is where his passions lie,
The things which give him drive
To overcome all obstacles
And make him feel alive.
It's not just the container,
Like some old rusty can,
It's the heart that beats within him
That makes a man a man.
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