I too contemplate scripture
some delve deep
the humble Love
mostly Mothers
any form of the written
as in hope their default app
ironicallylly erroneous
yet overwhelmingly applied.

We’re seriously thinking about
Landing and being habitats
Of a dead planet—Mars
Whiles we’re gravely destroying
Our livable and lovely planet—Earth

Mother Earth
No sacrifice She makes
Is small
At the hands of many
Who do not honor
Her at all.

And yet each Spring
New life is born
Flowers bloom
And the animals play
Hope made new
From Winter's gloom.

But the hands of men
Need to understand
Her resilience
Will not last.
And that all humans
Have a responsibility
To preserve Her brilliance-
Steadfast.

Mother Earth
Her weight on our shoulders now
Yet She continues to give.
From Her roots & soils; harvest is plenty
Into our bellies
So that all may live.

May we set aside
Our pride and ego
And all our selfish industrial waste
Get back to nature; honoring Her lands
Great care we need to take
Of Mother Earth for all our days.

©KSS 2/18/2021

Walk along the riverbed.
You will come upon a nymph,
Aged and smooth
As a riverstone
Sighing and singing with
The water’s flow
Ask her, “How are you, Nymph?”
And she will
Smile
Up at you and say
“I am but a tired soul
In a tired sea
Of tired souls.”
Her voice the soft bubbling of the river.

Walk among the trees.
You will come upon a dryad,
Ridged and furrowed
As the tree limb
Upon which she sat as she watched
The leaves fall with the autumn breeze
Ask her, “How long have you sat here, Dryad?”
And she will
Gaze
Down at you and say
“I grow and grow old
With the tree.
And the tree has grown tired.”
Her voice the raspy crinkle of the fallen leaves.

Walk amidst the flowers.
You will come upon a deva,
Light and sweet
As the honeysuckle she sat amongst
Watching and humming with
The many bees
Ask her, “Who are you, Deva?”
And she will
Frown
Away from you and say
“We, those of us that
Belong
To this place,
We are Afraid.
And we wish to no longer be Afraid.”
Her voice the wavering stems of delicate flowers.

The nymph chokes on her sisters' remains as
the dryad is cut down and shredded and the deva is
forced into restrained clay pots.

They cannot be freed by one
but by the response
of all.

What is water, but a constant fluctuating body of emotions. What is fire, but a loud roar spreading faster than anything known. What is earth, but the very grounding stability needed to live appropriately. What is air, but the very oxygen we need to survive. What are we, but souls on a physical journey, trying to discern what we can and can’t do or say, not realizing the self-imposing rules and habits that ultimately destroy us before the epiphany of life reveals itself, broadcasting the way we have chosen to live. Right or wrong, black or white, this or that... are simply illusions. Do not despair - illusions are made to be shattered.

"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition)

When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus.

The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition)

So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke.

In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory.

If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.

You see, stretched far and wide, the ocean.
It is just as your every move and motion.
You always seem to come and go.
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
But you never go away or leave for good.
I can always find traces of where you stood.
And if I follow each of them, one after the other.
I can always find you, putting two and two together.


Do you see, up above, the pale blue skies?
It is just as empty as the look in your eyes.
Your soul seems very tired and strained
Your heart is left behind, darkly stained.
I have seen you search like a lonely ghost in the night.
Across bodies of water, forests, and deserts for light.
And till this day you are still roaming around.
Searching for difference in the monotone sound.


But now, do you see, beneath us all, the earth?
It is just as fertile as the happiness you birth.
You leave behind a trail wherever you go.
Many things are added with each tomorrow.
Fireflies, flowers, dew, a soft breeze grow.
Yet, you never look back, only in sorrow.
I wish you could see the truth in what you do.
Not just what or how you are, but also who.


And just as you can’t see the winds, even when all around.
You don’t notice how free you are and unable to be bound.
You bring change in the weather of life.
But you never stop your roaming or strife.
Your wings are strong but all grows tired.
So please accept how you are wired.
One day you will find a good place to build a nest.
And I hope it is in my arms you will find your rest.

In Xanadu did Whatsoever
a stately pleasure planet decree
Where Amazon, the sacred River run
through Forests, measureless to Man.

And here were trees tall as the sky
and leopards, snakes and
birds of the brightest colours.

But oh! Mankind began to burn the trees,
drill dramatic chasms, build walls and towers
Melt the polar ice and turn the oceans into lifeless seas.

So in this tumult, once,
a sixty nano metre string of RNA came,
invading thousands and thousands of humans
and prophesying the end of our kind.

A vision in a dream then I had:
a simple utopia of rare device.
Could we revive our lost ties with Nature
we would heal our world and soul

And so with voice loud and long,
with flashing eyes and floating hair,
I say: Hey you out there. Beware, beware!

warm and forgiving
ever full of life
the burst of colour
in a barren land.

she gives you hope
and without her
you stumble, aimless
in the dark.

her presence is eternal
long after you've left
you'll stagger
trip and fall

fragments of her heart
on your white shoes.

The world in all her beauty
Still humans forget their duty
To look after this precious earth.
Respect and cherish
What He created with so much worth..
So devine and heavenly
Treat our earth with dignity.

Shell ✨🐚