Philosopher's Pen

Most of the people you know were once strangers The entire future is in the hands of strangers 

When you find a friend You long to stand with to the end There will always be a fiend Wishing it to end But promise it will not The passion will last as it ought  We will tread beyond the bend Joy, tears and fears You know have found a friend When the world would burn for one You could be one

Experience is life Life is the best teacher Sometimes ,a teacher we rather never encounter If we do, we pray we never remember The teacher who shapes our fears and desires A teacher whose lessons are knit to our knowledge and emotions A teacher one would always guide but will pay in guidance I have lived and have learnt my lessons And more lessons are yet to come Ever convinced that what heaven has in store is unknown There is something i am utterly oblivious of but is crafting my destiny An act in motion beyond my plan that is shaping tomorrow There is a person I completely do not understand why he is held back But i have seen that the teacher has not taught me much And it is indeed kindness that i should not learn all there is in life For the lesson are deep and not all of them are beautiful The  lessons that the teacher teaches all are, kindness, humility and love They are all that are truly our portion

Fearless people rule the world Happy people live today There will always be something thing unsurmountable Something you cant overcome today A fight for another day 

Son  I love you like a new hopeful day I will stand with you today to the end of forever Even if you break the sky I will fix it for you I love you

There is nothing wrong with being white Same to being black Not at all bad being something in-between It is bad that the fabric I want but cant find is black Black African But the strokes of white wont leave Won't even be washed away The black garment has lost its authentic pitch black  The back garment has lost its identity I hear it had a white name People are not happy but cant get rid of the white name Because the black garment is nolonger black It is only so in nostalgia 

A man will be praised from beyond the grave His glory will resound like an otherworldly bell Speaking of him unequivocally from the other shore Today he will toil, shed blood sweat and tears Tomorrow in his quietness he will be eloquent