Children of Color (Stillness)


(Stillness)

We lay there in the darkness, he but four, and he says, “I’ve seen an angel he say’s Papa’s going to die”. Well I turn there in the darkness, and my eyes are open wide, I say what else of all the future, can you tell me when I die”. “Tell me of the tree of good and bad, and what it taste just like”, then he rolls to one side looking his smile changing all that’s dark, and he says, “the children of color, have come to bring a brand new start”.

(Stillness)

He prays by the garden and see’s ghost go by, and rarely does he wonder if what he knows is right, and it could be it’s an ego coming from a little child, but careful, careful doubter, it could be he reads your mind. Could it be he knows your secret of the times you hate this life. Of the time you committed blasphemy with your body in the night. So it is nobody calls you different, but this child knows your insides, and even though you lie in words, you can’t meet a human eye. It’s a little bit of faith in craft of neurons that don’t meet, but better faith in something known, than men of cloth are prone to teach. Oh he rises ever higher when he watches angles fly, and he claims he once saw Ezra measure walls that reach the sky. Oh it could be he’s autistic, or it could be he’s not real, may be doubter of this noun and verb, you’re the one, who can’t let your soul with G_D meet.

(Stillness)

Numbers, numbers, choreographed from the start of time to now, geographic petrography, to the stars of breath sublime. Schizophrenic as diagnosis from a man who hates his mom, mental health done by neurotics from a psychopathic bomb. So it comes now from a child who counts in numbers six by odd, data to the ones and zeros, dreams of summer though there not. Is it faith or insanity when he learns to tie his shoes, for the whole world has ignored him, while he reaches for the truth.

(Stillness)

We live now in a world of difference from elitist to the poor, where a leader of a people has an IQ of a decimal .04, and while people watch him with such awe, a child sits, in the dark, turning light switches on in Bangladesh, with a synapse from his core. Know you now these days are numbered, when one and one will not mean two, when apocalyptic waves of chaos will be broken by order new. For these children of the color, those that are now of the age, they will break this social order, bring an end to all disordered rage. Call it faith or insanity, time that has no end, for the world has turned in sorrow, and this G_D will have no more. For it is he sends his brilliant children, special lights to change his song, bring a world that’s hung in darkness know it’s love for which he longs. While a tree sits there in Eden waiting for its final end, a child takes the final bite of knowledge, and turns his thoughts within.

(Stillness)

We lay there in the darkness, he but four, and he says, “I’ve seen an angel he say’s Papa’s going to die”. Well I turn there in the darkness, and my eyes are open wide, I say what else of all the future, can you tell me when I die”. “Tell me of the tree of good and bad, and what it taste just like”, then he rolls to one side looking his smile changing all that’s dark, and he says, “the children of color, have come to bring a brand new start”. (Stillness) – 04.13.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

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