Colour-blind

No one is superior. No one is inferior. No one is equal, either. Everyone is unique, incomparable.

I write to you, only days ago a complete unknown to me, not because you are Chinese, or female, or because you share a language our two with me, or for any other reason other than that you are a sister human being, persevering as I am through a global crisis. I have no fear. I am incapable of fear. Others, though, are anxious, frightened – perhaps you, perhaps someone you know. Many fear for their lives. As I have written before, destiny may not be coerced, cajoled, or counted on. We get precisely that which is within our destinies to receive. If nothing else, I might punctuate the waiting. For some, I may soothe the ending. In my life, I have been vigilante, pugilist, soldier, midwife, veterinary, nurse, and undertaker. In short, poet, warrior, carer. I offer now but what I can.

I am colour-blind, culture-blind. Having no country of my own, no gender of my own, no debts, no regrets, no crimes committed and yet unpunished, I have no chauvinism, no prejudice. Surely, I sit never on a fence. I speak and write my mind without caution, careless of offense, careless of consequence. But my opinions are of the heart. I have zero tolerance for users, abusers, bullies, exploiters, and will not rest ’til they are quelled.  In Wales, we say, ‘In a rich man’s house, the only place to spit is in his face.’ I do no deplore the rich, per se. I deplore those whose wealth derives from nobility, from aristocracy, from theocracy. Though few and far between, there are amongst the wealthy, those who give of their excess, their surplus. Enough is enough, no more, no less. In my eyes, there are only two types of people in the world – those who need help, and those who help. I have no family of blood; so the whole of humanity is my family.

My age, well-lived, grants me experience-schooled wisdom. My life, shunning always the vicarious, permits me perspicacity, earned through blood, sweat, and tears.

We met by seeming accident; though, in truth, it was by fate. Your wave and mine collided, a gift of destiny. I take that seriously. I give always as much as I am able, rather than as little as I might. And so these words ensuing.