Will you critisize me, uncaring readers of this world?
Sitting high on your thrones
Then you are similiar to the thistlesdowns
Which scatters in the wind hither and yon
I am as the bamboo stalks
Rising from the earth sharing its many uses
I have earned my crown of silver hair
I am akin to the cidars of Lebanon
The land of my father who has long turned to dust
How dare you riffle my life's pages with accusing fingers
Do you expect to read my inner thoughts free?
Without paying for them, without a tear or a sad heart?
You explore my deepest soul, carefully hidden
A great Spirit cannot be extinguished so easily
Judgement rolls off your inexperienced tongues
Forming opinions on the skimmed surface of my life
Do you suppose I care for your shallow perceptions?
That I would rather have your sarcasm to my hard earned wisdom?
Wisdom is in the mind not in the eyes of peers
So listen, my misguided readers
--♦.-•-.♦.-•-.♦.-•-.♦--
Note:
Do not judge and you will not be judged. Do not condemn and you will
not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven"
Luke 6: 37,41, 42
