There are faces in all different countries, each with their own distinct shade or tint.
We all were made to be untitled, to write our own paths and join together as a united nation.
Our faces, our skin, they're all just little pieces of us scattered across a human shape, but our skin does not define our character,
only our personality and the testings of our heart and pureness are what define us.
We all as human beings living on a strange planet are thriving and adapting to what is brought to our attention.
Our faces are like blank canvases, we all get painted different colors that mark in history who we are and who we are meant to be, but like paintings, their colors fade and wash away with every little incidental conflict, either with air or just time we all get old and gray and sooner or later we fade away into a magical untitled place.
Some call it heaven, some call it the afterlife, but we all have different names for it, different titles, and titles were and always are our enemies.
People label themselves into categories. Who's the smartest, who's the bravest? These are just titles, they're not authentic paths to who we are as humans walking on this diverse planet, inhabited by our demons, our ego, and our judgment.
Someone paints us: our eyes. They dip their soft brush into a pallet of paint, no matter what color our skin, our hair, any part of our shell.
And after we are dried, we step back and look at ourselves and we see the jewels and treasures hidden beneath the ripples of our personally.
Our twenty different masks.
Marry me today, tomorrow, marry me any day under the sun, marry me when the earth is old and gray.
Marry me today.
Hold my hand in holy matrimony, love me until my days are old and brutal.
Watch me smile on the rising of the sun.
Marry me when the sun salutes.
Kiss me underneath my wedding veil made of clouds,
and kiss the storm away, push it into a cage, lock my worries in your heart keep them there so they don't escape.
You accompany me in all I do which makes the evening brand new.
Bless me with a child as pure as gold.
Hold my hand as I hesitate to push.
Tell me everything is okay as I cry in pain
then tell me, tell me if our child is okay
smile in my presence as you go to work
kiss me goodbye as I constantly worry about you
hug our children and our future.
And as you begin to fade I will join you in your fading
just to ease your pain
I love you from the bottom of my heart
and our love has just begun to start.
AN INFANT’S MORTALITY
An infant small and frail lays peacefully in a long black cradle swaddled in warm blankets under the barrier between heaven and earth. The infant’s face stays motionless and her mother’s wet tears are still frozen on the infant’s tranquil face. No hex was cast upon the infant, but the infant only saw a sliver of daylight from the world above, then her eyes shut and the mother of this beautiful baby girl began to weep in sorrow, and the baby had departed from the sliver of light and had given up on staying and becoming a part of a family.
One last breath and the lights flickered and the soul of the infant drifted back up to heaven, where the angel formed into an angel again, but she never did leave that family. She left her mortal body but watched her family grow and disappear until they met all together in heaven and watched humanity grow.