Life is fair, and our beginnings just. Isn’t it better to think of it that way?
That the one who turned out to be black never asked to be born so, neither did the one who came out as white, red, or green, if there be such.
That the one born rich shouldn’t be boastful; he could just have been otherwise. He never bargained for where to be born into. And the one born poor shouldn’t think himself as disadvantaged. It was no fault of his.
But that all should consider their unique circumstances as unique opportunities to experience the diversity of life in unique ways, and have unique stories which no one else can tell the same way.
How that everyone was white, or black, and we never get the chance to enjoy the thrill of a love that is able to break the bounds of flesh and colour and bind souls in eternal unions that make black look same as white, or both become inconsequential.
How that everyone was born rich, or poor, and we never get the chance to marvel at the wonders of the human spirit in its tenacious pursuit to build an empire of wealth out of dust. Or bask in the love, which is at the core of every being, and stirs in the one who has thus built a spirit of sacrifice in releasing to the one who hasn’t.
Howbeit, life is fair and our beginnings just. For it gives to everyone who has ever lived a chance to do the one thing that is important: LOVE.
Love with who you are, whether black or white. Love from where you are, in the Americas or Africa. But never forget to love with what you have, whether you think it is nothing or everything.