Bowing To The Scrolls Of Peace (10-13-25)

Do not have to make noise or scream to prove the validity of celestial  worth
My existence has already been predestined by the stars upon the cycle of my birth  
See… I’m the phenomena  whose sacred parchments have paved the way

Be that it may on any given day
Bow unto the Gods and Goddesses in jeweled crowns of respect

Unto your spirit, allow incantations to soothe the soul when softly felt
A special kind
Will leave you standing in good graces, after I’ve enthralled the depth of your mind  

Society has turned the other cheek  
No cessation for the somnolent or the souls of the faithful meek  
We suffer our stigmata in silence  
Once Kings and Queens, roaming among the gentle Giants 
I bring quiet minds the scrolls of peace
Shh... I know when hands of comfort are slow to reach
May my celestial incantations, from Allah’s whispers leave you to unburden your swords and allow freedom to preach 

Who dare say times for us never existed    
Ask the Pope to show you those sacred scrolls, sepia, yet written with my history in it  
I am the darkness of my mother’s womb birthed into the light long before time  
The echoing cry of my past generations, reincarnated, in a land of plantations and ginger vines  
 
So far for a soul to have traveled from the evolution of the egg to become  
My home I pushed through the birth canal for me to articulate, think, and act as one  
I have the torch in my hands of Lady Liberty, the Good Book, my benevolent intellectual  
Yet my cognizance imprisoned in history by ignorance’s misperceptions at best  
 
I soar higher for goals to inspire by the tips of my two feet  
Mental joviality upon my presence once they are rooted, when destiny of our souls come to meet  
I suppose darkness, within subdermis may be good within the belly of the beast  
A waste of time not guaranteed to cross over for the Heavenly crown of an earthly defeat  
 
Echoing the sweetest hymns from what my eyes have seen  
A rose is a rose by any other name is not fitted for a King  
Those netted without proper atonement have no knowledge once it has become mainstream  
A little Dove who flies from the Ark of my Creator’s convent designs  
A beautiful shade of prominence, yet my beautiful kaleidoscopes will always shine  
 
You should stand proud when I come upon your grace
Intellectual stimulates to every woman and man under God’s human race
No filters to define the naturalization of my brain to the core you shall come to seek when our dialects blend in the temple as harmony speaks
Tender whispers as you keep ascending the softness of my Chi to give your soul a rest upon the sweeten slide  
Closing your eyes, listening for the melodies of my beautiful wind chimes  
See... I’m a special kind  

All Rights Reserved