Do you not find it amusing, as I, that people on the other side will cross over the safety of their long and thorny fence when help is not at their avail?
Does it not grasp at you, the fact that we have given off so much of our power as humans to the very things that were created by our hands? From strings, by strides, we make, and then are consumed by these beautiful creations.
It sits skew on my mind, this fact that those of us that do not believe in spiritual healing will be the ones that give into it when Western notions fail reason. We criticise, we burn, we destroy evidence of existence… All so nothing is left but for ourselves, just for us, all of us and our selfish ambitions.
Long are the days when we saw virtue in sharing, in chanting for Bantu, in ubuntu. We say it with our lips but cuff it off with out hands when none is looking. Competition, we call it. This complex idea that we should get to the top. That we should make it no matter what. No matter how many hands you spit into and toes you trample on.
How sad are we? How much do we pretend?