My mind is
Like that of a beef
With a dumpling
There is the good
There is the ugly
And the bad
All mixed in
To create the flavors
Of my mind
The smells of frankincense and myrrh made holy the air...
As white flames with smoke veiled the deity...
The one priest with folded hands and bowed head...
Offered his obeisance to the one he had always thought of as his own... his one Lord God!
Far away in an unknown land...
Another man was counting the beads of his rosary...
Singing hymns in praise of the One...
His protector and nourisher... His one Almighty God!
Yet when night took over the day...And the two men prepared for slumber...
The universal One sang the same cosmic lullaby:
"My children under one roof...!"
We may belong to diverse nationalities and cultures... worship the One in various forms... And yet we stand United under one roof, under the equal eyes of that One universal intelligence! Thank you so much for reading this and for all your love and support! ❤❤
I knock on the door, he says go away
I plead and I beg, let me in, I say
Please let me in
He pushes me astray, telling me to find another home to invade
Stepping aside I reveal one large flowerpot filled to the brim with soil and three blooming flowers
May I at least enrich your garden with my three budding fruits
Reaching out, the homeowner grabs hold of the cylindrical vessel
One by one he looks each flower up and down, examining their brightly captivating colors
Their yellow-like nature shines like gold in the sun
The depth of their cocoa centers contrasting beautifully with those same honey dyed petals.
Looking over into his garden, I see only white flowers.
Though equally beautiful, the unanimous collection lacked the distinction that my prodigies could provide
Awaiting his response, my head falls limply in reverence
Yet I remain confident
A smile gracing my lips.
I was excited to see
Excited to witness the opportunity my blossoms would be given to thrive in a nurturing environment
Yet as my head rose and my eyes lifted,
All reassurance left my face,
My happiness transformed into terror
Before me stood a man seeming ten feet taller and baring the face of a fiend
A wicked smile replaced his pondering expression,
A snicker belt out from his nostrils.
Looking into my eyes, the homeowner spit his words into my face
The saliva causing a sickening chill to run throughout my body
In my heart, his words will forever stay
My God-given soul permanently hardened to stone
No. They are the wrong color.
A shiver sparking a queasiness in my belly
As are you.
There is a wonder and beauty in uncertainty,
that sparkling unknown that unfold before us
making each moment precious
for its rarity and inability to repeat.
So, I hope it brings you joy and peace.
I think it's beautiful to be constantly reminded
that orchestras are composed of diverse instruments
embracing individuality to create a harmony undead,
by the conductor's hands, a music lives, unfolding beautiful sentiments.
A gentle reminder that there is no need for racism to reign over our lives; our individuality as human beings makes us who we are, and if we could embrace this wholeheartedly, we too, most likely create a harmonized diversity.
Hand in hand,
They were formed,
By souls entwined.
In profound love they must be!
To set these delicate creations free,
Such divine sculptures,
Sentient in clay,
Each full in emotion and in minds that sway,
But none the same.
I gaze upon,
These luminous lights,
Above heads held high,
And fists that soared through the sky,
It was not a halo,
Not a bulb,
But much like Northern lights in the sky,
Holographic swirls that enchanted,
Kindlings of glow each soul comprised,
In this mix and match of colour and aura,
Sparks a spectacular flare of illumination in the atmosphere,
That became the stars.
I watched the bus drive down its route
With all kinds of fares on board;
Heading to some stop;
Each on a personal journey,
As important as any you've got.
The cord will pull,
The door will open
To let some traveller off,
As another steps into the bus.
On and on,
On and off,
They travel on their routes.
I used to ride a bus,
And I knew this back then;
Then I forgot for far too long,
I'm still on my journey friends.
We must first see what is the
to first catch the glimmer of hope.
Of what started at the beginning
and realise that to go forward
we must readjust.
But to change we must stare at the abyss
of our consequences,
to realise that without diversity we'll
never transition beyond now.