This world...our world , got it's differences.. It held a beautiful statistics..a brilliant geometry of lives..
People sketched, the unnecessary graphs.. in the name of castes , colour , gender , nationality and what not!! Hence created the ugliest line of division.. about ,who can be the numerator and be above the community line.. and who can be the denominator and live under the poverty line..
Some crafted wealthiest names..while others had to hide their tears under unfinished roofs.. Some chased for their own rise...while others have to eat the only rotten rice..
Multiplied the division deliberately.. Added up the differences wanting-ly..
We should evaporate the boundaries , we drew in our life's charts.... should redefine our lives , to decrease the death rates...
Let's choose humanity over cruelty.. Helping over hindering.. Love over hate..
Remember ,we all are alike.. 'cause every being has to make their first cry after birth.. 'cause every being has it's last breath.. every being has to breathe till death.. every being have to bleed when cut..
Math's creating the difference!! Science finding the solution.. Humanity is being jailed behind the bars of human's hearts!!!
Thinking of my closest relationships makes me marvel at what a fool I am. A map of the streams of my loves would show small settlements tiny villages where I’ve rested from my frantic search for meaning - spaces made by nights of talking and sharing - spaces of kisses, cries, shouts and whispers that kept together the threads we coiled into a chord of memories.
Memories of foolish leaps we both made into a friendship, a kinship, a marriage a co-creation.
What faith abides in me that causes me to abandon logic for love? It is a mystery to me how I can stay in this embrace despite our divergencies?
But it is a splendid mystery I celebrate.
I bow to my new friend ruqayyah I met on this website. His poem, “keep your friends close” caused me to write this poem. It is about the trust necessary for close relationships of all kinds. I think of my relationship with my relatives, my friends, my church, my wife. All of these are based on some degree of trust.
Is it where you come from that matters? Is it your history, your line of descent? Do they really know you, they chatter Would they sit down with your friends Where do you come from they ask What is your story they say Will you do away with your mask Let them know you if they may
What went before doesn’t matter Only the present counts It’s a fresh start you barter For your past in the ground But when it comes down to it They still want to know Where did you come from Where will you go
You choose your own fate Your life is in your hands Your future’s for you to make You’re not bound to the land Let them know you by your deeds By your words and by your song Do they need to trace your feet To know where you belong?
What is a reputation - But a binding rope No leeway to stumble For it’s a slippery ***** If the days gone by are to colour Every speech and action Where is the scope to discover? Aren’t our lives but a fraction - Of what they could be If we believed we were free To set forth and make waves Or float along with the sea
But then again you may say - Do people really change? Can they let go of the hate - Washed clean by the rain? And can we trust someone who lays No claim to yesterday - For whom nothing can vouch But the words of their mouth? If one is constantly changing - Then where does one stand? How can the others trust you - How can they shake your hand? Is trust merely an illusion We conjure up for ourselves - To alleviate the confusion To put reason on the shelf? One day we all must choose When there is much to lose Whether to cling to the family tree Or take flight and be free
Those you grow up with are forever They’re the ones you never leave Where you came from is your start The first page of your story But it can’t tie you down It can’t hold you back You mustn’t be afraid For in the attack They may have the armour of the known And the weapons of their forebears But you will have freedom And an army of your brothers Your brothers in thought And ideals and humanity Your sisters with whom you fought The winds of disparity
So I suppose what I’m saying is The only story worth telling Is the one that unfolds In the final reckoning
This is an old one, posted here a few years ago. Made a slight edit. Thought it was more relevant than ever so decided to repost.