A view in the mirror

I am who I am … and you are only you.

There have never been and never will be others like the two of us.

Many things they have told us

They hardly really matter;

They serve to hurt or separate, or lie or flatter a little.

Useless groups that people join

And he pays the price dearly;

Some are just cheats and some are not quite nice.

Your race or nationality

Your age, height, or gender;

If you eat red meat

Gold put vegetables in a blender …

It doesn’t really matter, it’s all a silly game;

We are all two-legged animals and more or less the same.

We all behave the way we do for many different reasons;

And that behavior rarely changes

As constant as the seasons.

Hold a mirror in front of your face and tell me what you see;

You see yourself, that’s all there is.

When I look … I see myself.

We cannot be what we are not

Through the eyes of another person;

Seeing another through our own mirror is rarely very wise.

I accept who I am and I know that I am not you;

No more than you can expect to see …

Me, through your own sight.

This is why manipulation and fear are often used;

Forcing someone to be someone else … only serves to abuse.

“Why must you be so different …

Why can’t you be like me ?! “

“Because I’m not … I’m myself,

And my self is what I will be! “

The friendly giant

Where is the friendly giant hiding?

In this land of thoughtless pygmies?

Where does Santa land his sleigh?

In a land of “give me, give me”?

Where does a bee look for nectar?

In a land of artificial flowers?

How can you lead a stable life?

In a land of changing hours?

Where can a ray of sunlight fall?

In a room where shadows are drawn?

Where can a thoughtful person thrive?

In a land so full of muscles?

Where does the artist’s eye find beauty?

In a land now ugly and flat?

Where do fish find a stream to swim in?

In a land of arid sand?

Where does a man find honesty?

In a land where nothing is fair?

Where does a tall green tree grow?

In a land of poisoned air?

Where does the pioneer travel?

In lands where borders are closed?

Where does the minstrel sing his songs?

in a land where deafness grows?

Where does the artisan sell his skill?

In a land of dubious commodities?

Where does the poet write the tender lines?

In a land where no one cares?

Where does a child learn to laugh?

In a land of frowns and pain?

Where does the star man turn his stories?

In a land where there is no tomorrow?

Where does the giant hang his head from?

Desperate and in utter sadness?

Live in a land that knows no joy

And he has chosen instead, pure madness.