Lost

Let the games begin, may the best swimmer win, so is the tale at inception. Unlike Michael Phelps, we are no geniuses at backstrokes. It's a miracle, out of millions of possible combinations, we even won the race. Just imagine a field of billions of people that all look the same, it's crazy right. But is it really though. So mysterious is the miracle of life that everyone is different but yet we are all uniquely the same. Superficially the mould may look different, white, black, yellow, green whatever. but strip away the skin the blueprint is I am. It's crazy in away we sort the mysterious ways elsewhere, when it's right infront of us. It's on our friend, it's permanently glued on us, it's on our enemies, it's everywhere, just take a look in the mirror or the person next to you, that reflection, that image is I am. But despite being so lucky, out of all creation to wear the god image, the image of love, the image of Peace, the image of everything good. Yet despite being the walking image of I am, somehow we are anything but evil, the chief engineers of doom, talk of Abuse, bigotry, corruption, genocides, wars, the dictionary is long and endless. What have we become, only the face maker knows.