Friday, August 19, 2011

The Quilt

Perhaps in death 
my words will be viewed
more seriously.
The childlike fantasies 
won't seem so infantile.
I see a field - and there
we are all playing.
There is no race, religion,
no separation.
There is only One.
From this thread we are weaved
into the quilt of life.
And while different squares 
exist in the quilt,
warmth is felt -
when they're all connected.

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