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sensed the power,
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and we rise back to our feet,
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it’s the same human
it’s the same you! [Written for a new friend,
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HUMAN. THE WORD is beautiful. It connotes a sense of dignity and wisdom, an image of a heart beating and feeling, an essence of soul breathing through a body.
Human. The
word itself would not suggest hurt and hunger, hatred and helplessness.
But what about the word people?
How come in most societies, the people are forced to toil for the enjoyment
of a few? How come they, taken as one, are an oppressed and exploited lot?
How come, when they band together to build their states, they are disadvantaged
by the rules promulgated by these states? How come their supposed servants,
the government functionaries, seem to have developed the habit of lording
it over them? How come they can only sigh over their woes? And hope? And
cope?
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