The Color of Karma
In the womb of stars where time was spun,
No race was born, no flag was won.
Only light and dark in sacred dance,
The pulse of cosmos, not of chance.
Day weds night in cosmic flame,
Black and white—neither curse nor shame.
The law of poles, the yin, the yang,
Creation's heartbeat, harmony sang.
But man—oh man, with ego blind,
Chose skin as worth, and hate as mind.
He carved the earth with bloody hand,
Built walls where rivers sought to stand.
He labeled melanin a sin,
And wrote his laws to cage within.
He crowned himself with thrones of dust,
And turned divine gifts into rust.
But nature watches—ancient, wise,
And sees the truth behind the lies.
No color ever ruled the skies,
No truth was ever born from cries—
Of fear, of greed, of wicked pride,
Of souls who chose to run and hide.
Yet karma walks with silent grace,
And marks each tear on every face.
What you have judged, you soon shall bear,
The pain you gave, you'll feel laid bare.
For justice does not beg or boast,
It comes when you ignore it most.
So let the mirror show your core,
You're not your shade—you're something more.
The blood in kings and slaves runs red,
The stars don't ask whose lies you fed.
When night returns, and all is still,
The truth shall rise—against your will.
And when you cry, “How could this be?”
You'll see yourself in what you see.
Copyright © Chanda Katonga | Year Posted 2025
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