If Jesus is white then so is the devil.
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Spring is most definitely here,there's even a nut in the White House
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"God created under the Throne and of it's Light, a Great Tablet in colour as a Green Beryl, and a Great Pen in colour as an Emerald, and filled with ink which was of White Light"
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I am a Free bird, the phoenix in the shadows, hailing a white aura, I walk ablaze as an Earth Angle igniting the souls of love with only the truth of our Father, the Universe infinite.
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We all believe in a God, or supernatural something: The faithful pray -- those less inclined, wish on a star, a turn of a card, toss of the dice, spin of the wheel -- and so the bouncing ball lands on the black or white of a gambler's soul, his deity, Lady Luck. Ah, the atheist! I am often reminded of what my father repeated: "no atheist in Fox Holes". The older I get, the righter he becomes.
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A white dot in the endless sky can illuminate the whole world with its power of light.
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Most of the parameters that we set, are formed with a duality from end to end, such as, black & white, right & wrong, good & evil, strong & weak, or receive & send.
Yet it's the shades or degrees that lie in between, that may approach the infinite, where little is absolute or guaranteed.
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After a few seconds without oxygen, where is the white man/woman or the black man/woman. They're all cadavers.
Hebert Logerie
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As biology meets technology, biotechnology emerges as the architect of groundbreaking scientific innovations: from cellular mastery to societal progress. -Aloo Denish Obiero
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I talk in black and white
but feel in shades of grey.
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WHITE PEOPLE KILLED CHRIST
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There are no black and white photos, because they are just shades of grey.
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Reflective architecture just detracts from itself.
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You are like a white light, placid behind the prism of shyness, but full of colours when you break free <3
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Zafar Supari killerz First priority is to disable or kill opponent through chemical drink or white powder.
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Zafar Supari killer uses white powder in water to kill.
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snow touches with love the forest trees and fields and every single thing with his cold fingers, and covers them all with a white blanket, whispering, now go to sleep...
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History all tyro in Black and White
Think about the prior losing recent,
But historic happened events,
when I remember
They Lent 440 volts elasticity current.
_______Bushan Singh Chib__
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Some lives are as white as a piece of paper from birth to decease, others are the brilliant colorful pictures.
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Cassidy Hutchinson is a modern Erin Brockovich except that in her case the well has been poisoned for the whole country. — Michael R. Burch
(Keywords/Tags: America, USA, patriotic, truth, justice, White House, Trump)
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Me bhi soch raha hun black money ko white karnay kay liye businessman ban jaon.
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Our past is a blueprint of experience, forming the architecture of the life that we construct.
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Telling a White or Black lied isn’t for the other person protection. For it tells more about the ones telling the lies Charcter who’s in denial.
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- Peace, like white pigeons, should, in hidden realms, take flight -
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If you look at the world only in black and white, you can never see true color
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White in the shadows
I see your face,
unbidden. Go, tell
Love it is commonplace;
tell Regret it is not so rare.
Our love is not here
though you smile,
full of sedulous grace.
Lost in darkness, I fear
the past is our resting place.
('Ghost' by Michael R. Burch, keywords/tags: ghost, shadows, regret, relationship, smile, grief, dark)
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A white swan
parts the cherry-petalled pond
with her motionless breast.
—Roka, translation by Michael R. Burch
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I too have come to the cave;
within: strange, half-glimpsed forms
and ghostly paradigms of things.
Here, nothing warms
this lightening moment of the dawn,
pale tendrils spreading east.
And I, of all who followed Him,
by far the least . . .
The women take no note of me;
I do not recognize
the men in white, the gardener,
these unfamiliar skies . . .
('The Gardener’s Roses' ?by Michael R. Burch)
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Indescribable—our love—and still we say
with eyes averted, turning out the light,
“I love you,” in the ordinary way
and tug the coverlet where once we lay,
all suntanned limbs entangled, shivering, white ...
indescribably in love. Or so we say.
('Ordinary Love' by Michael R. Burch)
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A black ringlet curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight...
This is what I remember
now that I cannot forget.
And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember...
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh,
our soft cries, like regret
...the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase...
now that I have forgotten her face.
('The Effects of Memory' by Michael R. Burch)
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