Patterns of the Stereotype

I once saw them at a distant
I cringed as they performed their rituals
They made sounds that had a rhythm I couldn’t understand
And a melody that held no resonances with music I was familiar with
But all that was at the beginning of their rhythm
Cos at the tail end, I led the chorus of the song

I once saw them as a primitive people with strange idiosyncrasies
All caught up in doing things that had no bearing to what really matter
Till I sensed it
That moment when it all crystallized
My purpose, my essence and how I had been positioned to make known what is within me

All journeys like this one starts out with us having obvious differences,
It always starts out with us trying to mix like oil in cold water,
But with time and the pressures of living, our differences become less apparent

It was here I found my calling
It was here that that I began to engage my senses and began to blossom from within
And as I continued in purpose, outsiders found it harder to know where I start, and where they begin,
Cos in our harmony, we spoke with one voice

I had become familiar with their ways and what they stood for
I had began to appreciate the intelligence in their gatherings and the logic behind their chaos
I began to know that it is in their mist I can matter
I now see how I can become their anchor
How strangers would soon begin to refer me as the incumbent; the one that defines the pattern in their stereotype