We were born to different mothers,
But still we are spiritual brothers.
And still indifferent to what bothers,
Fire of hatred either of us smothers.
Blood won't seperate the atoms
Of joy that flows through our veins,
Nor will it break a bond that has been
So atomically connected without chains,
Mud squishes between our toes,
My friend is climbing stairs as he goes.
Debunking the myth of racial differences,
Here we go holding each other's hands,
To mother earth we owe the references,
Tune we will to our lives these bands.*
But we remain sat with our feet against the warm fire that reminds us of home,
Muddy worn out shoes that no longer fit let us know just how much we've grown,
Until the next morning when adventure is to be sought and we sit On our throne.
A "Ryan Holden" and "The Lonely Bard" collaborative poem.
