Billions of people have walked this earth; left a foot print upon the ground. Throughout your life you will walk among the footprints of those who have lived before you, sometimes stepping in them. Sometimes falling into prints that are far too big, far too small or fall too wide. Sometimes you will find a footprint that seems to fit yours seamlessly, but do not be fooled. Do not live within the safety of someone else’s shadow. You will not make history by living within the crater created by another. You must walk alongside them, infront of them and make your own.Dig your feet into the ground, do not let the universe forget that you were once here. Your existence should leave a tattoo upon its face.
The earth, the sun and the moon conspired to create you.
Your existence is a deliberate work of art. You are no accident, no mistake.
The wind, the air and the oceans worked together to birth you.
You are comprised of particles from galaxies unknown, remnants of kings and queens before you, the breath of a goddess, the tears of a warrior and the blood of a revolutionary.
You are not here by mistake, in fact the world would be different, imbalanced without you.
You do not have the right to fight what the universe has created, do not doubt it and do not dull it. Do not water down your rich spirit to appease those who are empty or half-full.
You are here to move mountains, to make change in the world, may it be the world in its entirety or the world of a single person.
You are not here to please others, your mind was not coated in brilliance to be used by another, your body was not sewn together in strength to please another person. Your voice was not fabricated with thunder and lightning to be spoken over by anyone.
You are not pretty, you are not delicate and you are not fragile.
You are mighty, you are fearsome and you are deafening.
Let the world and those who try to defeat you, tremble in the shadows of your thunderous presence.
Humanity; such a simple yet deeply complex concept.
All humans know what it is to be human, yet so little of us understand what it is to be humane.
To have humanity toward others. To allow our similarities to construct the bridge to peace, rather than permitting our differences to make larger the divide.
To recognize that the ground we walk on is the same, the air we breathe identical, and the hearts within our chest, albeit beating at different rhythms made of the very same matter. Our flesh and blood so very alike.
How foolish to allow language, religion, sexuality, pigment of skin or political ideation to detach ourselves from our constituents.
Let love and acceptance premise the doctrine of your religion.
Let humanity be your race and compassion be your culture.
Replace weaponry with conversation,
Substitute rage with kindness,
Let the blood that has been shed by your fellow humans, fuel your battle for peace.
Turn battleground to common ground.
When faced with a language barrier, use laughter, it is universal worldwide.
Hold hands, embrace, fight relentlessly for one another.
Life is much like a race, should you run it alone, you will cross the finish line to ultimately learn that you have failed. The point of the journey is to walk it hand in hand with your fellow humans, albeit different but so very the same. To carry the weak on your shoulders, to speak loudly for those without voice and to love in the face of adversity. You will ultimately reach the finish line to understand that we are fundamentally the same.
That I am, because we are.
I have always wondered how we could possibly live in a world full of humans, yet a world so profoundly deficient of humanity.
Sometimes flowers spend the entirety of their lives believing they are weeds. A flower is unable to see its own layered petals, it is unable to appreciate its effervescent pigment. It cannot smell its own brilliant aroma. You cannot wait your entire life for validation that you are indeed a rose. You must believe that you are a flower, even though you have always been handled like a weed.
Bloom, flourish and radiate simply because you can. You do not exist to be aesthetically pleasing to the world. Be your own sun and be your own rain, you must not be admired to be made aware of your own brilliance.
In a world rich and replete with people who fear the dark night sky,You have always been the moon.
You are cratered with holes and riddled with imperfections,
Your flaws indeed visible from light years away.
Nonetheless you are a source of light in the darkest of hours.
It has never mattered that you are rarely whole, guarded and half hidden, when the stars grow too tired to shine, you have always shouldered the responsibility of lighting the sky.
Staying awake all hours of the night, accompanying many a lost soul and many a broken heart.
Serving as a commonality between lovers separated by oceans.
Being the same moon above all of humanity, black, white, rich and poor.
Your light does not harbour prejudice, it does not wield deprivation.
You wear your flaws like a medal and your emptiness like a crown.
How courageous and selfless I think it is that every night you give light to a world sometimes so undeserving.
I have always aspired to be just like you.
Life is a bloody battle between your mind and your body;Sometimes a life long war.
Two entities contradicting one another, a struggle of profound passion,
Your heart caught in the crossfire.
Your mind endeavouring to convince you that your body is unloveable, undesirable, unworthy.
Your mind is not rotten it has simply been poisoned by a world of people who profit off of your ability to find beauty in them but not within yourself.
Through the struggle-some process of learning how to love yourself,
You must remember the way your body fought for you even whilst you tried to destroy it.
The way your heart continued to beat even when you wished deeply that it wouldn’t.
The way your skin covered your bones like a blanket when you wished it would simply disappear.
The way your body acted as a shell, protecting your mind, your heart and your soul while you singlehandedly tried to break it.
Let the scars that you bare serve as a medal; you have overcome the struggle to self destruct.
The wrinkles on your face a reminder that you have endured years of this battle and yet here you stand.
There will come a time that you will realize you are on the same team, an armistice proclaimed; a total ceasefire.
You will listen to your heart beating within the walls of your chest,
You will realize that it is the anthem of your existence,
You will take a deep breath and sing along to it.
There is nothing more natural on this earth than a human being, simply… being.
She sat down across from me on the old creeky floor,
Cross-legged with an open mouthed smile.
She looked at me with conflict in her eyes “I’m a stranger to myself, tell me what I am.”
I’d never thought about being asked that question but I’d certainly had the answer in my mind- one million times over.
I thought about how she was born with a spirit that was freer than the wind.
Her soul could not stay in one place long enough to find home in her body.
She came by her nomadic presence honestly, sometimes she’d been like ashes in a hurricane, other times like petals in a calm summer breeze.
I often thought about how God must have struggled to cram her larger than life soul into a pint-sized rib cage.
How difficult it must have been to disguise her as anything else than otherworldly.
I couldn’t understand how he’d made her an imagination even larger than the world he dropped her in to.
I questioned how you could fit an entire universe inside a tiny human body,
and what it must feel like to carry an entire world around in your head, how she’d carry the universe on her shoulders and still butterfly around effortlessly.
I could only explain to her that she was infinite in a world of finite things.
I had to explain that some days I couldn’t tell whether she was the earthquake or the shattered china;
The hale storm or the broken umbrella.
But I did tell her that I believed that the sun rose and set for her, that she stars competed for her attention and that the moon lit up the sky for her each night.
Art can be appreciated by millions, without ever being aware of its own brilliance.