The Black Sheep

The path is deserted
The journey, long
With hope in its heart, it survives.
Along the lonely road it walks,
For ache in the body and pain in the heart,
Cannot annihilate the goodness in the soul.

The search will not end; not so sooner, surely.
Staring into the limitless skies, it revisits:
The awful memoirs of its gruesome past,
The cruelties of nature,
The hypocrisy of its race,
When suddenly, it is forced;
Forced to travel back in the equally painful present,
For the panorama calls for,
For its hope has paid for,
For its search has finally ended,
For it has sighted a flock.
‘My kind,’ it thought, as its legs stepped unknowingly, closer to its clan.
Its happiness knew no bounds.

But they were staring now,
The sight seemed familiar
Of difference,
Of superiority,
Of dissimilarity,
Of divide.
It realized their implications, as if reading their hearts.
“Maybe for you, I’m inferior,
And the blame is not yours,
For even God differentiates;
But as those with goodness in their hearts,
And those with evil in their souls,” it said.

And as it was about to leave, it turned around and sighed,
“Yes, I am a black sheep,
But real darkness lies in your hearts…”