Kabir a great Indian saint Weaver by occupation Weaved a fine turban Worth two takkas Dawn to dusk He sat Sell it worth the price No buyer ready Unless half price Unsold he returned When it grew dark 🌑 His neighbour saw him There was a dialogue Took charge of the turban Next morning 🌅 Neighbour sat selling Turban priced Eight takkas A customer bargained Settled for five takkas Within an hour He returned Filled Kabir's palm Five takkas The saint thus wrote: "No buyer of righteous World 🌍 believes Rogues"
Our worlds is crying Sons and daughters are dying One by one Sad thing is they're dying all so young Mothers are wiping Genocides are still happening Want my world to just finally sing Dark times are coming People are running Families leaving everything behind Rights are taken away People are getting shot everyday Dying without doing any crime Teenagers cut lines, committee suicide Police take innocent lives Cause no one has a heart They take away their children And leave their mothers scare They just want to love them, but they keep them apart So my whole world is letting out crys It brings me to pain Are we still going to lose our loved one again, Or are we gonna fight They say all men are created equal It's not only one race It's everyone lives
i am prismic and entrancing, refracting - always reflecting my insides outwards. you will know how i feel if i want you to know so, i will tell you how to feel and by my will you will do so, i am hypnotic and sympathetic. i am blinding and righteous.
Do you see what I see? Do you hear what I hear? Songs of Joy, Silence of Pain; Pride and Triumph, Prayers and Tears; When the Righteous Flourish, the People Rejoice, But when the Wicked Rule, the People Groan.
You cost nothing but your priceless You are the kryptonite to our devices The very act of you is righteous If only you were a common thread That wove all of mankind together So we could help heal each other We have never been more divided But you can bring about unity instead YOU ARE KINDNESS And your gesture Can stop turmoil and heartbreak Before it spreads
She lays along her porch In clothes of comfort Enclosed in comforts A modest house A ancestral skill A family purring in peace Yet I’d only want a piece Of her None of all that other Such a western reality Is rooted in my mentality To see her behind a glass As children gawk and gasp