Though be the world a beautiful creation I see the cracks and imperfections
I see the pain and hurt on an innocent child's face
I see the betrayel and fear of a victim of violence
I see much too clearly now
It's all shades of grey
No right, no wrong
We do what we need to do to survive, to save a life, to protect another
Morality is a question unanswered
I thought I knew the world, I thought it was black and white
There was only right or wrong now there is only existing
My heart is heavy with the weight of the world
We sin against each other, we sin against God
Some feel regret and shame; some feel nothing at all
I want to solve the problem but I can't do it alone
We were made to beautiful creatures
But instead our humanity weighs us down
Deep into a pit of selfishness and desire for our own needs and no other
Some still have light inside their souls
But we get eaten up by the darkness
Devouring our hope to fight for change to come
Rejection, betrayel and regret eats away slowly
We fight to hope in a world meant to swallow us up
We fight everyday to be happy when it seems like there is no end to the problems daily
Do not judge the woman who whores herself out when she has no money
Do not judge the crack addict on the street asking for money to feed his addiction
Do not judge the man who hits his wife when he gets angry
Instead feel compassion, feel something stronger than hate for these lost souls
Know they are trying to fight through their problems just like you
Who of us doesn't have a secret vice to calm our cries
What would the world be like if we chose to love those who we don't understand
Instead of letting fear of someone who is different get in the way
We all our beautiful imperfections
We have the chance to be something so amazing we can't fathom
How much we all deserve love and compassion
Hatred does not exist without fear
Fear is nothing if not felt
Friday, March 15, 2013
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Hamlet
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
Sermon on the Mount
"Blessed are the poor in spirit; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek; for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they that hunger and do thirst for righteousness; for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful; for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are they pure in heart; for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
Monday, March 11, 2013
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”
― Martin Luther King, Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches
― Martin Luther King, Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches
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