Our Anthurium Like Heart

All races give out rays of light
Under that same sun that rises for everyone
And stars that shine brightly for everybody.

All of us have been granted the same chance
To feel through touch, or any other senses
To learn to see and seek through our heart

We're all just of different colours, sizes, and shapes
Different types of body embodiment, so beautiful —
The harmonious elements needed to create a world.

The ocean rests there, extending itself till horizon
For us all to see, to surrender to beauty, to find harmony
To experience the sublime, to believe in the miracle of life.

And then it dawns on everyone and on everything
As rivulets of tears flow from our saddened eyes
While our Anthurium-like-heart blooms in the same soil.

I would tell you too of the beauty of our variances
Of all these mysteries that make us up
And of the magma-like blood that streams in our veins
That unfortunately erupts when ache and hate take over.

I don't hate you brother, I don't hate you sister

My whiteness, my blackness, my yellowness, my redness,
My coffeeness, my greenness, my contrasts, my uniqueness

I don't hate you brother, I don't hate you sister

My querness, my disabilities, my loveliness,
Our weaknesses, our weaknesses, our weaknesses

I don't hate you brother, I don't hate you sister

We are only one tiny drop in that ocean of life,
Making one member, linked, linked

And when I finally go to rest, I return to our ocean, mingling as one

I love you brother, I love you sister.

-Eiravel-

I think that the anthurium plant is an interesting metaphor to describe the human race… don’t you think so?

If you see the uniqueness, if you see beauty, if you see intelligence, if you see the richness, if you see the love in everybody else, then you’ll be beautiful, you’ll be intelligent, you’ll be rich, you’ll be loved, you’ll be unique — these are the magical words I silently repeat every day in my head — that one law of attraction that I try to practice, though how difficult it is. Perhaps I am the leaf, perhaps a bud, or the root that holds on firmly to a stem, or perhaps a hand, a finger, a tiny cell, a little bacteria… a function of that one body.