We both stumbled out of the gate; one filled with hate – the other a child of that fate. Color was the cause of that spate. The dye was casted that blazingly chilly day for children unborn, none would dream nor know how blindness made the life road they would take.
Love should conquer all; stand tall unbending to break one’s fall. It is a hope many have in their heart when it’s time to give one’s soul – but sometime that beginning is not so bold.
The light of us we say are our children; those sweet innocence of purity with the breath of the Gods – with a future to fill guiding them to the stars. I think this is what the great man saw with much wisdom; the promise of the best of ourselves brought to the world. Though I think he forgot that we are imperfect; burnished with that sin we must all embrace like the winds that swirl.
Life surely teaches us goodness, grace and the angel’s road to take. We bring that gift to our children; setting them on the journey they will make. Along the way their gold grows old, cold and they become lost souls.
Broken men searching for a mend; rushing into love seeking a godsend. But the piece of peace that soothes sleepless nights bring the children. Oh how we delight! Vow to get it right – to make this life of mine stronger of mind to brightly shine. But dare I say it: my goodness, my goodness – isn’t this the same story line? The same promise divine; passed along the paths of time.
There must be a happy ending to this dilemma; something that is worthy of life’s glory. Or are we forever destined to wring our hearts dry on our circle of one’s childhood story?
“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”
– Frederick Douglass, American Slave, Abolitionist, Statesman – 1818 – 1895
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