Which came first?
Such a question makes us all wonder
But my life is based on this question
And I will ask it forevermore.
Was I born with a heart of stone?
Dark as can be, cold as ice, devoid of compassion, empty of kindness?
And did the plant of good flower on such barren land?
Like a poppy from the battlefield.
Or was I made from pure generosity?
Bursting with light, warm as the sun, erupting with compassion, full of kindness?
And did the spores of evil fruit in such a paradise?
Like a toadstool in the meadow.
Which came first? Black or red?
The darkness from the hate around me?
Or the kindness shown towards me?
The warmth of red, or the bitterness of black?
Or maybe I was born a battleground?
Black waging war to make me a weapon
And red fighting to make me a shield.
But such a question will never be answered, even if I search for decades.
But sometimes I can't help but wonder:
'Which came first?'
