Faith on Saturday’s foggy morning.

Like a child, or an infant, I cry and whine the minuscule pains of our world. I am empathetic to the chaos and destruction. Though our pains are not new, I’m older and sense an obligation to mother and father, grandparents, and ancestors. The pain is embedded. I see, hear, and feel. triggered. I’m silent yet vocal. Through abstract voice, I sometimes heal. I use my privilege… would you have heard me otherwise?

Man’s social construct are abusive, we abuse God’s world his power and divinity. This is no longer his world. He lends it, he lend his world, and we have never measured up… the agony is inflicted by man himself. God waits for his children in his home and heaven. Meanwhile, he judges and watches from sky. He observes his children, and how they are treated. His wealth is silent and closed to the unawakened eye. But, he blesses the faithful.

My cries and sorrows are tiresome, so I wish to fall back asleep.. but, I remain faithful. 

It’s true. It’s as if I yell in front of the mirror while no one listens, except my reflection.

I wonder of world leaders like Jesus Christ, Buddha or Siddhartha Gautama… I bet they were friends, hurt by destruction, war, and poverty too. I bet collectively they loved the highest, Supreme, Jah, GOD.

Maya Angelou, James Baldwin, Nelson Mandela, Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Cesar Chavez, Bob Marley, Barack & Michelle Obama, Pope Francis, Dalai Lama..

so on and so forth.

I wish I could speak to each of you.. How did you pray? What do you say?

I wish I could hear the prayers of his children, past and present. Here and gone. 

How do we speak to good Divinity? 

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