. . . for the color of my skin;

To be brown is not a sin.

Contempt me not for my ancestry;

To be true to my roots is not a felony.

Contempt me not for choosing love over hate;

To guard my heart from evil, I do contemplate.

Contempt me not for our differences;

To honor the many things we have in common—

Is fair enough and just

As may I say so.

No one and nothing,

Is as restless as the clock.

Truly, it’s pleasure and privilege to lay back.

For the clock’s hands are always in motion,

And our deeds and actions can’t keep up—

It’s a fact not just a notion.

Time maybe not be in Wall Street

But its value is higher than gold—for real

No cheat; ask the old.

. . . is the sky

in which

You’re the only star.

It carries your name,

And hums our song

As lovely as the robin sings.

It’s filled with joy

For the God-given—

Heaven’s beautiful work of art—you.

Seasons come; seasons go:

You and I are slaves of time–

Don’t you know?

You should so.

Seasons come; Season go–

And so are worries and woes–

Why we hoard them so?

There’s an art and wisdom in letting go.

Seasons come; Seasons go–

Nature speaks in silence:

Hi, hello, bye, hang on, shalom–

good to know.