Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Of the Many of One

Of the Many of One.
Love, Papa.

Bullets fly
Fingers point
Tongues burn
Yet we stand firmly
Rooted in our meager truths
Knowing only what we spout.
Defying our reflections
With anything but awareness.
For each must seek
Yet all will find
That we are but one of the many of the one.
And when Peace comes upon each
So that many might see.
The One smiles.
Love, Papa.

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