I live in my prayers, I live in writing, and I live in hope,

at least somewhere there won’t be prejudice, and perhaps the world will have a black pope.

Muslims, Hindus, Christians and others will pray in the same room,

Calling our father a different name, but yet singing the same tune.

Will 007 ever be black? Will Barbie ever be from Asia?

Will the west ever have a non-Christian leader?

And when will we see that the colours of violence in any country is the same?

When will we love all, and stop the inner hatred that we acquired using a religion’s name?

I love the yellow in the bright shinning sun, yet I hate the same yellow in fire that burns people and their belongings.

I love the red in a rose, and I hate the same red in blood shed, in violence when we are hurting.

I love the blue of the sky, and the ocean’s adorable green,

All these colours of life, seem to turn ugly in all the hatred that I’m seeing.

Colours in the rainbow. Colours in my life. Are they the same?

Are the colours of humanity present in these so-called Islamic, Hindu and Christian names?

Then why fight cause his name isn’t like yours? Why kill because he dresses differently?

Why shed the red in blood, and then burn in the yellow of fire? Why the difference in you and me?

I love the yellow in the bright shinning sun, yet I hate the same yellow in fire that burns people and their belongings.

I love the red in a rose, and I hate the same red in blood shed, in violence when we are hurting.

I love the blue of the sky, and the ocean’s adorable green,

All these colours of life, turned ugly in all the hatred that I’ve seen.