Walking With Wolves

With all the tension in the air, we all are so on edge. A wrong word or even glance, could almost spark a riot. We live wounded from all the words of fire thrown. I am so careful what I say, because it feels as if we are walking with wolves.
When did we become so vocal about the shells in the shallows that we lost sight of the treasures in the deep?
We confidently share our thoughts with others, as if life itself depended on it.
Perhaps, we are so desperate to be heard that we demand to be listened to. Yet, we cut and hurt others in the process.

Let me ask you, can you recall the beginning of time?
I know I can’t.

Can you hold the stars in your hand or weigh eternity on a scale?
I know I can’t.

Can you comprehend the galaxies or speak with those who’ve passed death’s doors?
I know I can’t.

And can you recall that day when our Earth will meet her end?
Again, I can’t.

Yet, in all our knowledge, opinions and reasons, we have become wolves in sheep’s clothing. For not one has entered Heaven through the Gates of Hate.

Perhaps, we could embrace each other in the love we had at first. And remember the hope that lies before us.

Maybe then this wolf will lie with the lamb.

And the two will sleep in peace.