Who wins this insidious dance with death, called life?

"Who wins this insidious dance with death, called life?"

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The man behind the mask, or the mask that entraps the man?
In those brief seconds before the dawn, that minute instant before our ego takes hold,
who is it that decides which mask to wear that day?
And why is that one mask chosen over all the other ones?​

Is it the sad man that truly wants to be happy,​

Or is it the happy man that society forces to be sad?​

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Who has more strength,
the man with no legs who dreams of running even tho' he knows he can't,
Or the man with good legs who wants to sit and has no dreams?​

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Who has more talent,
The artist, who from his multi-hued palate creates the perfect color,
Or the blind man that sees this color in the darkness of night?​

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Who has more riches,
The simple man who found a shell as a child and holds it to this very day,
Or the wealthy man that has so much he doesn't hold any of it?​

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Who's song has more beauty,
The critically acclaimed musician who leads a symphony of trained voices,
Or the young unwed mother, singing a lullaby to her deaf child?​

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Who has more power,
Is it the champion of industry who holds the fate of thousands in his hand,
Or the homeless man that wakes alone, looks out at the dirty street, and says "Good morning God"​

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The one you choose the winner in these, will be determined by the one you allow to make the decision.
The mask? or the man behind the mask?​

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Who wins this insidious dance with death, called life?​