We are each a second of existence,
Living, feeling  then death.

We are each a moment in breath,
exhaling beyond our lifetime.

We are each a footstep in time,
and sometimes they remain.

Collect your memories
          and realize
that were but a grain in the time
of a universe
                     of awe and inspiration.

A mother is our anchor
       on life, always there for us.
And when they sink,
          we seem to drift
a little deeper in the water.

Death is never a rough sea
             its an ocean of placid waves
  enticing you deeper beyond you strength.

And when it falters,
  it will kiss you with abundant waves
to comfort you in sullen breaths of eternity.

You will be silent underneath
                        the noise of above
only seeing the darkness swallowing  you below..

We were divided
      never seeing beneath the layers
of our differences not realizing
           its what made us human.

Race, we ran a good one,
         but in everyone there is losers.
Most were capable of pacing themselves,
but someone needs to win??
                                  
"Why,

Why couldn't we cross the line together,
           for so long
we all saw the line differently.
Some beyond a realistic reaching

Faith was a moment of
                contradictory morality,
following paths of  words long since dead
but others never followed there own rules.

We found faith in each other,
       we were our own creations.
              No longer slaves of another's faded memory  
morality was embedded within us.

Gender was woven in the eyes
of those who's hearts were tagged
               beyond there wishes.
We love whoever's eyes we gaze upon.

We dip in shallow waters of emotions,
              whoever's feeling wash up
we cant help but be the shore
       that we fall upon, love is blind.

Woven on sheets between palms
                   were the wishes of deaf ears.
We may ask for many things,
but only we are the bearers
                 of our own aspirations.
          Never do we ask for that which isn't right.

Without a hand to wield it,
              creation is just a silent voice
never written down.

For without man, the words aren't understood.
                  So if the pen came first,
how could man write life down,
                         as he was after its creation.

I had entangled within her verses
                    that were never totally coherent
upon every verse.
               She spelt it in dyslexic
      dramatization  that I never understood.

We were meant to spell every movement,
                but we tripped over every emotion,
                and you were the thorn within me.
We never understood each others sentiment.