A Mysterious Angelic Music Poem by Bullion Grey

A Mysterious Angelic Music



Can we cry at seeing a new foal being born?
Can we feel the tingle at the sight of a beautiful sunset?
Does the playful charge of our cat towards an open field cheer us up?
When a person is killed in an accident, do they have to be known to us for us to really feel something?
Can we give a homeless person a few dollars, without judgment?
(As if we knew anything about why they are the way they are)

Like a mysterious angelic music, that comes from within, we must let our feelings come to the front; let our bodies tell us what we know. We must be so connected - that even when a stranger gets killed, we feel it. We must give when we have our doubts, we must doubt our doubts.

Else we are wandering fools, disconnected, disenfranchised, disallowed, and disaffected. It must then lead to disrespected, of ourselves and every other person.
To be genuine is to be whole.
To be whole is to be able to feel our connection.

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