Once there was a magic bowl,
That many claimed a “muse,”
But as to who would feel its power,
The bowl would get to choose.
For only those with purest heart,
Would ever know its wealth,
For some, it made them super rich,
For some, gave perfect health.
But once you felt its special touch,
You had to pass it on,
To share the magic was its gift,
For you and everyone.
Of course, some people didn’t care,
To share the magic bowl,
They tried to keep it for themselves,
A rather selfish goal.
On these occasions, the bowl would change,
And turn into a sieve,
For life is not retaining much,
Until you learn to give.
But still some men would say the bowl,
Was only for a few,
It’s power only given to,
Whoever “they” approved.
They made the bowl the symbol of,
A mass discrimination,
And claimed the bowl gave reasons for,
Their planned eradication.
They taught us lies about the bowl,
That furthered their agenda,
And didn’t care what lives they ruined,
Or who they did offend-a.
The bowl was never meant to be,
A reason for destruction,
In fact, this usage contradicts,
Its magical construction.
For Kindness doesn’t separate,
Or judge or hate or kill,
It doesn’t use the Magic Bowl,
To bend the people’s will.
That’s why the bowl will never yield to,
Abusers of its magic,
For when they use its name in vein,
The result is always tragic.
Until the day we learn to live,
In peace and harmony,
The bowl will not its power give,
Till Kindness reigns supreme.