…and practicing
It’s not sameness.
Oneness is a river of difference
braided in light.
It’s jazz, not a jingle.
A hundred languages laughing together
and none afraid to cry.
It’s your voice wrapped in moonlight
and mine in Dayfire…
not matching,
but merging.
Not fixed,
but dancing.
Oneness is the moment before breath,
when all things remember
they were never truly apart.
It’s the child in Ghana who hums a tune
you dreamed of in Philly.
It’s the mother in Palestine
whose heartbeat syncs with yours
for one silent, holy second.
Oneness is when borders fall like bad habits,
when eyes don’t see threat; they see kin.
It’s not peace made on paper
It’s peace made by rhythm,
by recognition,
by reach.
It’s Earth holding us
not as passengers,
but as poems.
Each line distinct,
but part of a single
song.
And in that song,
there is always a note
that sounds like you.
