for all the advancements,

in the realm of anatomy,

all the novel abilities,

machinations of the mind,

the seed of the soul is still primitive,

still nascent and naive,

forever waylaid by the masks prancing about,

gullible as to try and waft,

all the scents of a printed rose,

unbeknownst to the heart,

life not only subsists in the hut,

lunch not only protrudes from a branch,

the jungle is now concrete,

and yet the soul is but the same,

the soul of the africans of old,

is the same soul that at birth,

to us was sold,

tend to it dutifully and carefully,

leave it unmarred with the new ways,

lest it lose its ancient appeal,

that bears the seal of approval from its maker,

shroud with the whiteness of purity,

unleash it to its preferred paradise,

relentlessly flood it with love,

bandage its wounds with grafts of healing,

prune away the gangrene of hate,

unto these commandments,

cling and heed,

indeed your seed shan’t wilt or wither,

instead,

rising as high as the tide

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2 thoughts on “primal seeds

be sure to purge (thoughts,ideas,complaints) if at all you feel the nudge

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