Hate. Encompassed by idle words.
Too many people, they say.
We have no room, they say.
But our land is vast, I say. Let them in.
Life is too short to hate.
We will all die with debt. Having spent too much.
Have we shared our wealth? Have we loved?
I would give everything to help one soul.
Or will we close the door?
Our lives remain the comfortable same. No more. No less.
We can rant and rave for either side.
But have we loved?
Because that's all there is.
Will you die clutching tightly? Or will you open your clenched fist?
Your words, which fall like so many fire sparks. And burn.
Open the door. And love.