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God is calling his children home, calling his sons and daughters out from their caves, out of the mud and the soil, out of the ditches and root cellars, out of the debris and blood and waste, out of the naked and torn skin, out of the chains tightened around their dripping throats, and out of the cages sunken deep within the earth, calling them to freedom, calling them to rise up and take their places as his children, with strong knees and strong spines and high hearts and heads, firm fists, and smiling faces, up over the mountain they have struggled to climb since birth, free from the wind and rain pelting and stripping them of every nuance of strength and hope, to restore and heal them, no longer bleeding beneath the wreckage of broken homes, nor the apprehension and hindrance of generational curses nipping at their heels every step of the way, he is calling them to dance and scream and laugh and sing, barefoot and open-armed in his love and abundant strength, he is calling them to take their places in his name and enrich and take the hands of the dying, to kiss the despised, and embrace the tortured, he is calling them out, out, out! Out into the open, sweet air, no longer scathed in wounds and ash, blinking in the dawn of a new day, the dawn of a new era, a new saga, a new life, where freedom is no longer a mocked legend, but instilled within every fibre of their being , where cages and locks cannot keep them, in a place where freedom sings her songs all the day long.Best?
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It is not the ties that bind you, but rather your apathy to move towards freedom.Best?
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Coming to the realization that you have only known the hollow, practically harmless side of all your hardships, previously unaware of the true dangers that lie in wait, is easily one of the most humbling experiences one can undergo.Best?
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Time has stopped its breathing, has run out of room for the nothing in its stomach, and the blood in its body has poured so long for you, that there is none left to puddle around, and cool those alabaster feet that have not moved in so long (from the poem "This Time Fading")Best?
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We are but victims of self-pity.Best?
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How lucky we are to be living within such a plethora of diversity! Encircled, enriched, and—hopefully—breathlessly entranced by the generous tones of our skins that splash this earth with such brilliance, we need not wait till the rain fades for such a miraculous display of color. Rainbows, glorious though they are, may never contend with the beauty and diverse shades of the people walking this earth.Best?
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