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Opinion

The Obama Serenades XVI

“Gramps was a free spirit” The choice of sires is not ours to make, never could have been, anyhow… our being in space and time could never be one of choice, our being in space and time is one of sheer destiny to whose truck we are tied… love beyond black and white and yellow and brown and red… a critter studiously attuned to its own sacred course, a critter on prowl uncoaxed, a critter that knows no bounds and thus attuned to none… a wop, a bum, a schmuck; it makes not a whit of care; the gradual and deliberate and insistent flow of the good, the bad and middling; a diamond in the rough to be worked and revealed in the nick of time… wayfarers we all are, fluttering and ferrying and flying without cease till there is nowhere else to go, and then we sleep the sound and silent sleep of saints, leaving in our trail and to our scions the giant wings of memory to ferry forth… what we are is often what we claim to be, what we do is largely dictated by what means of existence we possess and where we find ourselves in space and time… 7/24/09 Credit: Kwame Okoampa-Ahoofe, Jr.

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DISCLAIMER: The Views, Comments, Opinions, Contributions and Statements made by Readers and Contributors on this platform do not necessarily represent the views or policy of Multimedia Group Limited.