The ink flows on the pages,
Words,
Of every shape and size.
They lay,
Lined up in cornrows,
Words of compassion,
Mystery,
Kindness,
treachery
And courage.
Rolling hills of color;
Bright shining stars,
Dark cloudless nights,
Rolling orange sunsets,
pale blue dawns.
They make us who we are,
They define us all.
The colors swirl and twist,
A patchwork of lives
Tales,
Stories,
sights,
A million moments,
joys,
Miseries,
Triumphs,
Downfalls,
Entwined
They make a story,
A story full of color,
And emotion.
The story of us all.
The words join together,
Woven,
A web,
connected,
By something no one could ever see,
Nor understand,
No words could describe,
None would do it justice,
But we try,
Weaving words together,
Strand by strand,
Our own webs,
placed,
In hope of trapping it,
That emotions none can explain,
In hope of capturing it,
for our own.
We weave together strings of emotion,
One after the other.
It connects us all.
It transforms us all,
Valor,
Cowardice,
Compassion,
Callous,
Treachery,
Trust,
All something more,
All something new,
All connected,
They are what lies in us all.
We are broken,
But strong.
We are divided
but equal.
We are blinded.
Enveloped by the embrace of envy,
Seared by the coals of hatred,
Intoxicated by the smoke of power.
We blind ourselves,
We close our eyes in a sea of light.
We choose darkness,
Because it is easy.
And it changes us all.
Those who open their eyes,
They see,
See that we are not divided by our differences,
It is the only thing,
that has,
And ever has had,
the power to unite us,
It makes us whole,
And strong.
united,
And equal.
able to see rightly.
Beacons of light,
In an endless dark.
We are our own,
We are the same,
We are different,
We are one.
It is,
What defines us all,
What changes us all,
What lies in us all,
What writes the story of,
us all.
About the Creator
Amatsi Writes
I write because I can't speak when no one listens.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.