A Tribute to a Better Way

I am nothing more than a voiceless opinion swept away in the winds of a storm, born to the beat of dirt covered feet and animal skin drums; made and played by the fingers and thumbs of a young boy called “slave”. Blisters are mounds on the hands and feet that puss and bleed as gain green marches amok. Dreams and speeches merge marrying blacks as one, adopting millions beneath the wings of one King, stealing the gaze of America from podiums and black and white screens. Even through tears and blood WE WIN! Though hate propelled evil steals life on motel balconies my vitality remains and sustains my earnestness for positive change. Decades stream by in a blur of swirling colors. None of which create rainbows but more closely resemble the cyclones that steal away our homes and premature souls. Lies created in the shallow depths of a spineless Texan prove directly responsible for the deaths of thousands. Can tragedy avenge a deceased senior? Maybe I should question the intern in charge. Even though I may not be able to see through the fog, I know where this sidewalk leads, and when cement reaches sea my sails will capture the breeze and deliver me to my destination. My voyage will end and my friends will await me with outstretched arms and sincere smiles and present me with a comfort that soothes me like velvet. My problems will become frivolous and my time will go graciously and I will fade knowing that my contribution was made responsibly and whole-heartedly. I WILL live on… even if the rest of the world dies.