Who am I, the story, the great love affair, the notion of service, the morning papers, the Italian Nun, who becomes a star, the connections, the reflection, the world cup in Qatar, football in the desert, the page turns back, Moses and the promised land, the rights of man, the many questions, the teasing, the tension, then the world cup goal, when the record is corrected, baled out of course, could there be a better way of saying, Who Am I, what am I doing here, where do I belong, then the small girl in the Bedouin tent, asking her Father, Papa, when is the change going to come, he too progressive, but having to live, like those early light people, under the radar of Heaven, freedom and security, in the hands of the Prophet Moses, if that is what you call the leader, and all descended from Abraham. It’s not a simple answer, and questions need to be addressed, but the words are on many lips, what is the world I can live in, then the environmental cost, well, another issue, more inclusive, could we sort out that one first.
My rights, I was born this way, the three hands instead of two, the doctor is astonished, how is this possible. The later years, the move away from the so called norm as it’s known, the new norm, how we address today, yesterday history. Could we move faster, the pushers of rights, do they consider the rights of others in their thinking, or is it a case, this is ours, when ours only exists become of the others, a man and his wife, not a woman and her husband, who comes first. The issue is pressing, the arguments continue, the effort to assault under disguise, those who disagree with you, how kind, the world cup, the reality of green pasture, huge stadiums, the outcries of the rights lawyers, well, is it not better to bring the issue to the light, when all laundry is on show.
So Sister Maria, becomes the sweet heart of the prince, his children find a father who has rekindled that earlier love, while the reputation of the Great Higher God, rises, not that the music does it alone, but the story, the children get the mother they need, not a dutiful woman, who is a servant of her husband for life. So Who am I.
The picture of the cloud is a real one, have no doubts, amen.
Imagine this, the power of the Holy Mother, imagine, the use of the words, some to define purity, maybe, they are used to display the notion of pure love, but got lost in their meaning, well…Imagine the children who have had to grow up with a mother tied to the house, freedoms restricted, pennies counted, her spirit overtaken, a servant, whom those around her assume to be the role of the woman in this life, amen, Holy Holy Holy, amen, and then wonder whom to imitate, knowing it is wrong, who would not be confused, amen. Who Am I?