THE SAME CONDITION

Dust in the wind… name and color… all of it fades in the sun… Faces change their shape, not the force that keeps them breathing, not the blood that still insists under ЛЮБОЙ kind of gleaming… Walls are built from judgment, dressed in titles made of worth, and the table keeps on splitting who deserves a place on earth… When the surface starts to crumble, no more rank and no more claim, every name dissolves slowly into one and the same… Who decided all the measures, who drew lines to keep apart? If the ground don’t see the difference, neither does the human heart… What divides us from each other ain’t a truth we’re born to own, it’s a lesson badly planted, something learned, not something known… Not the cradle, not the corner, not the iron, not the cell, ever tells you what is worthy of the soul you carry well… Look… when the dust covers names and all the glory… who was more? Tell me… what remains of all that judgment when the body hits the floor? Tell me now… All that status, all them titles… what for? If your skin don’t hold the echo of the good you gave to others… And I’ve seen gentle hands clench the same as any other… and lips that preach the light… spit — then speak in shadow… Don’t you talk to me ‘bout higher… when the ground calls every name the same… Tell me now… Here… nobody rises without falling… no one falls without a trace… Who decided all the measures, who drew lines to keep apart? If the ground don’t see the difference, neither does the human heart… Dust in the wind… nothing more…