Often hath the world been turned by fate’s stern hand,
New laws proclaimed, new rights in ink made fair;
Yet still lie leaves unturned in Time’s vast book,
Thick with the dust of ages long since past.
The mortal eye is wooed by light and hue,
Yet man himself hath stained that gift with sin.
Though still our sight doth yearn for colour’s grace,
It gazes now through scorn and bitter hate.
Thus hath mankind ordained a cruel decree:
That worth be measured by the shade of skin.
“If not of white, then thou art naught,” they cry,
And cast their gaze in scorn on those unlike.
Yet when man lifts his eyes to nature’s bow,
He sings its praise and names it wondrous fair.
For what is e’er a rainbow’s noble form,
If every hue doth not in union stand?
But when they behold mankind’s living bow,
They choose to love but some, despise the rest.
Why is it so, that colour breeds such hate?
What sin lies in the hues that make us whole?
❤Ami
Jan 26
Jan 26, 2026 at 8:59 AM UTC
Often hath the world been turned by fate’s stern hand,
New laws proclaimed, new rights in ink made fair;
Yet still lie leaves unturned in Time’s vast book,
Thick with the dust of ages long since past.
The mortal eye is wooed by light and hue,
Yet man himself hath stained that gift with sin.
Though still our sight doth yearn for colour’s grace,
It gazes now through scorn and bitter hate.
Thus hath mankind ordained a cruel decree:
That worth be measured by the shade of skin.
“If not of white, then thou art naught,” they cry,
And cast their gaze in scorn on those unlike.
Yet when man lifts his eyes to nature’s bow,
He sings its praise and names it wondrous fair.
For what is e’er a rainbow’s noble form,
If every hue doth not in union stand?
But when they behold mankind’s living bow,
They choose to love but some, despise the rest.
Why is it so, that colour breeds such hate?
What sin lies in the hues that make us whole?
❤Ami
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