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Oozed from my mother’s womb
Like a butterfly wiggling from its cocoon
Separated free by nature—liberated together
Were we—and are we.
The sky has no limits—no borders—
Space’s its extension—eternity its realm.
Down here in this land we are webbed around
Separated and bound one from the other
By the evil spun threads of human injustices.
History does not repeat—just changes methods;
Only nature is a true timed circadian rhythm in life.
History remains his story—methods altered as needed;
We are people of nature—survivors of the seasons and seasoning.
Ourstory must continue to be as the seasons—meeting each challenge
In the circadian rhythms of the time with likewise renewed strategies;
Like the sun of yesterday, we too must rise triumphantly to meet today.
