World, I heard the lyrics that you sing
I’ve felt the pain that false love brings
I know the dark of depths of woe
I’ve seen the scars that few will show.
World, even music breathes your lies
Says hope’s sun sets in paradise
That sin’s allure’s your only happiness
But cannot reach eternal bliss.
World, your hope is fleeting, slipping fast
Your art reflects it; but, alas,
Your billions of feet tread the broadened path
That holds destruction in its grasp.
I turn off the song, the words fade away
But your fate is in my mind to stay.
Father, if You can use a girl like me
Stereotypes. Whether we see them as false, but based on general knowledge, or as completely false and too ridiculous to even mention, stereotypes influence the way we think about others. More surprisingly, they influence the way we think about ourselves.
There was a study done on Asian women. You see, everyone knows that Asians are really good at math. And everyone knows that women are really bad at math. Right?
Modern America is all about love. That love expresses itself in many different ways, but on a societal level it is all about embracing who you are, loving yourself so that you can better love others, and loving others by showing them tolerance, no matter what their beliefs or lifestyle may be.
Tolerance. Since when did that become such a positive word?
"Hey, we're all going to hang out at my place after school. Wanna join us?"
"Sure, I think I could tolerate being with you guys for a few extra hours."
In the midst of the historical accounts of Israel in the Old Testament, there exists this jewel of a verse:
And Elijah came to all the people, and said, “How long will you falter between two opinions? If the LORD is God, follow Him; but if Baal, follow him.” But the people answered him not a word.
- 1 Kings 18:21
Noise, mechanical noise
wafts up with the smog from the streets.
Hundreds creep quickly with purpose and poise
of ants crawling from mound to mound
of steel, stoic cubes and fingers reaching to the sky with a crowned,
clawed finger aspiring for the heavens.
They are in cocoons. With fleet,
decisive steps, they march on the streets
and pass a hundred more seated beside.
No nod or glance is given.
But in shoes of leather, suede or hide
they go where is right in their own eyes.
red, on a wall:
"Let no man judge" - then, underneath,
two circles and arrows, each on each
you came running
over the green fields you came running to meet me
you took my heart by surprise
you came dancing
wildflowers and windswept trees, smiling out loud
you took my hand and spun me
you came singing
echoes in the ruins of a majesty at once ancient and undying
you took my breath away
somewhere back in your dark, wet earth
Her brown hair, normally rather mousy, reflected a rainbow of colors in the sunlight as she entered the holy place. She was not of the faith, but respected the idea. Her clothes were riotously vivid colors of orange and yellow and red, gold trim and sweeping folds, her jewelry fake gold, heavy and ornate. Only her bindi truly reflected her personality: small, sophisticated, delicate. Her feet were bare and she felt she looked out of place, pale. She nodded to families as she shyly dipped away to a quiet corner of the temple to stretch and wait.