- Muriel Rukeyser
Recently broke 1k views on my Flickr stream. I released this image under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike and since then it has been used in many online articles and blogs.
The lines of my page reminds me of my fingerprints.
The ink in my pen reminds me of my blood.
The words written reminds me of my heart.
The poem given reminds me of my soul.
Poetry reminds me of the essence of who I am.
Life is about so much more than what the world can give you. I believe life is about: finding yourself, discovering what your talent is, pushing that talent to the breaking point and then giving that same talent back to the world.
I find it interesting how people are so determined to obtain money, success, and negative attention. All these things add little substance to your life, and many people who seek such things, tend to find themselves asking: ‘what is my purpose?’
Are you not exploiting who you are? Selling yourself short for what you’re truly meant for? Think bigger than you. Maybe your that one person to bring sunshine to someone’s life or start a movement that empowers more than just ignorance. But we tend to care little about what we cannot see or have not yet lost.
Everyone’s purpose is different, but there is one universal purpose that we are all here for: to be the best you, you can be, and GIVE those around you that part of you that you’ve been developing. That’s the universal value in life: TO BUILD THE POSITIVITY IN YOU, TO BUILD THE POSITIVITY IN SOCIETY.
Your worth more than all those in the past.Your the sun among gray clouds. Hope when all else fails. Your rejuvenation. The most purest form of adulterated love, for no one comes without scars. But, your scars are memorizing designs of majestic beauty. My distant wish, softly whispered upon unknown ears. Your the heartbeat of my soul. Can anyone imagine such a love? Can you imagine such trust? Do you dare think of such devotion? Could you ever doubt this unexplained emotion?
N. Kigali, Rwanda
Photo by International Liason
Ross Oscar Knight
Read more at www.50shadesofblack.com/blog/beautiful-rwanda
Somewhere under the darken pigments of your self-hatred,
Under the forgotten beauty of your mocha skin,
Beneath the historical strength etched within your sun-kissed perfection, that you bleach with Eurocentric mentality, you’ll find a lost queen or king of African descent.
Somewhere under the darken pigments of you, you’ll find a legacy of poise, dignity, power, liberty, courage, bravery, and most of all..beauty.
You’ll find a shade of African American ethnicity.
Wildness never looked so civilized.
There’s a Star. Bright against midnight blue. There’s a Star. High in the sky, but still in my view. There’s a Star. So distant, yet seemingly tangible. There’s a Star. It glistens from my window. There’s a Star. Its never old or never new. There’s my Star. Familiar to me and a stranger to you. Theres my star. Shining upon the pages of my journal. There’s my Star, written in the curves of my ink. I wrote of my Star because the sky seemed too far.
There really is this star outside my window🌟. But to apply this to life: find a star that brightens your world. And when you find “your star,” hold on tight. I’m been luck to have a few stars in my life, who lighten my path and humble me with a few laughs.
And I can write letters upon letter of all your flaws, but fail to list not one of my own; because somehow I’ve been convinced my flaws are perfections, and yours infections. The very thing that’s causing my hatred and dislike of this relationship. Blinded by the need to be right, I become disillusioned into making my wrongs seem ethical and I justify it with a fight. Blaming you because males rarely tell the truth, forgetting females can lie and hide too. But since I have never done such a thing to you, I believe I’m right in all I do. Forgetting the way I doubt your every move, or how no matter what you do, I believe your motives are less then visible. I should take a moment and reevaluate my mental. If I cant trust you, then why am I with you? SO, I ask myself: Do I trust you? Simplicity never seemed so complex. You can’t put “yes and no” to love, I guess. Where my love is pure, I believe your’s is a mess. Despite what you say, I know there something I’ve missed. You brought me flowers today, theres something amidst : He never brings me flowers— he’s done something, I’m convinced. So I stare at the petals of blue, green, and yellow all the while thinking: He’s probably not a decent fellow. Telling myself that his action came from anywhere else other than affection. Then, sit back and wonder why he left me for lack of devotion. Guess, I was right all along. He never truly loved me after all. Or maybe it was my own flaws that caused our downfall.