Flashback: Little girl, choose well…

I wrote this ages and ages ago… seem relevant still…

There was a little girl with a great big dream:
To climb the mountains, wade in the stream,
To cross the wide valleys and ride on the stars,
Touch the pale moon, and maybe travel to Mars.
She wanted to meet the world and feel its might,
Spanning the expanse of day and night.
And she set forth one nice summer day-
Not really knowing how she’d find her way.
She roamed the wide deserts, stared into space,
No one, no home, no time, no place.
Until one day, she met with a man
Who said he saw eternity in the grain of a sand.
He gave her a pouch and whispered in her ear:
“The powder’s magic, its precious, my dear.”
And like magic, in the whisp of a breath
The man disappered, leaving the gift he bequeth.
So the little girl took her new bag of powder
Sprinkled it about, from there to come hither.
The powder was magic, as the old man proclaimed
It healed the blind, the mute, and the maimed;
It brought forth the harvest, good fortune, good will-
No one fell hungry, not one soul took ill.
Everything was perfect, or so the little girl thought,
Pleased with the good luck her magic powder brought.
But, you see, the old man failed to tell her one thing:
That the powder changes the soul of each thing-
It crumbled the perfect, made weak the strong,
Turned perfect to naught, right turn into wrong.
And the perfect world the little girl built,
Battled and raged, took things to the hilt.
Something so broken, no way it could last
She silently watched Beauty crumbled to dust.
Tears ran down the face on her soul,
Everything that glitters may not be gold.
The wolf in sheep’s clothing- the deceit and lies-
Was heartened at the echoes of the world’s futile sighs.
The Beauty and Grace the girl’s world had lost
Came at an astounding, unimaginable cost.
How do you fix something so broken inside?
For time stopped ticking and still is the tide.
Nothing hath breath on the now cursed soil
This villain, to the hero, a perfect foil.
Then in the grave silence something said:
“You could choose hate, but choose Love instead-
For love can bind wounds, rescue and restore,
It can heal, make perfect, even hate’s score.
So how, little girl, the world bids you choose:
Would you loosen hate’s shackle, untie deaths noose?”
For a long time, the little girl did not speak
Then said: “It is not vengence or hate that I seek,
Alone I’m found wanting, with Love made complete.
Love let your magic knock Hate off its feet.”
And so it came to be as the little girl chose,
Finally she earned life’s bittersweet repose.
You see, we own nothing, not even our name,
We only own our choices in this treacheous game.
So choose well and wisely with help from above
For all life’s grand options, always choose Love.

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