When I die,
write me a lullaby.
Sing me to sleep,
with a breathtaking melody.

When I am ready to fly,
let me go and do not cry.
Just let me flutter my wings to the beat
of your awe-inspiring harmony.

So, when I die,
please write me a lullaby.
Play it aloud, gently,
then everyone will have known the sound of me.

It's true that folks exist with Bull Connor and George Wallace views.
Hidden among themselves as if no other races exist.
More secure around their kind.
Until they venture into the real world of society.

Then realize things are changing.
What racism ways that took place against the Civil Rights fighter?
With abuse from those enforcers of the law.
And the bigots that supported them so righteously.
Would face a more firm force of fighters today.

The youth think different.
And quicker to react.
Not one to let things take it time.
When that group refuses to adapt.

The real world is about change.
Even those trying to remain the same.
Whatever hate group exist?
Realize even they have an opposite ready to attack.

But both work upon different perspective.
Refusing to see truth.
So they use schemes to manipulate fools.
How else?
Can you recruit?

In the real world truth will win out.
We all are simply Children's of God.
Assigned here for a purpose.
Which we eventually will see as the real world changes.

Ragged stone cliffs frame a wanting sea
The podium of black moods
Grounds of final thoughts
The twenty second swan dive
There are easier ways
I’ve been falling for fifty years
And the bottom seems no closer
I can slow the descent with outstretched arms
A type of crucifixion without the nails and sin
You have no idea what goes through a mind in free fall
There is no reminiscence, only now
And still I hear it said that there’s someone in a darker place
I know; I passed her on the way down

The tide charged in deeply, taking all that was never there for the asking.
Desecrated sanctity let flow scarlet rivers while the moon tied her tongue and the sand dried her tears.
A heaven of weeping constellations dimmed as she rose, this shaken child, silent and mourning, her innocence torn and bloodied by this fierce current that knew not her name.
She wept a tear of farewell, her eyes faded in acceptance of a fate once warned. Stumbling, ragged, once hallowed now hollow, she dared not ask why of the moonlit wind as it blew her homeward, to be forever the keeper of secrets.