My Dearest Boy

My dearest boy,

I am writing these words with a heavy soul.
A gloomy dark cloud is hovering over my thoughts and over everything good we have.
My heart longs for serenity. I hear news from afar filled with anger, pain and savagery.
I hear dark words, and I see horizons torn with the viciousness of men.
What is it about us that we cannot walk this path reciting verses of love with every step, describing the beautiful abstraction of humanity to our youth?
What is it about us that we are charmed by the malice?
I beg you, my boy, keep the light in your path.
Keep your words kind.
Keep your rhymes happy.
Keep your horizons colourful.
Keep your mind serene and keep your heart open to everyone, to humans like you, to those who love and don’t crush others.

Paint those humans on your canvases; yes, you shall paint soon. You shall embark on a serene voyage guided by your brush strokes and the light from your heart, you shall be caressed by your colours, and you shall gift warmth to the ones who can and who will want to see.
Paint so the horrors shall be cast away from the light. The only light that can and will open the doors wide to our hearts and will conceal the kindness between us humans.

I wish you peace; hug those high mountains for me and write about the autumn hues that fill your eyes with new verses.

Tell me, are your oak trees getting ready for spring rebirth?
Are your pine trees solid and ready for the snow?
Are your olive trees delighted with the precious harvest they’ve blessed humans with?
Are your Cedar trees always mightier than prayer itself?
Write me words and paint wisdom from my land, my blessed mountains, where the hugs are maternal and the
guide to the brightest love.

May the Sun guard you,

Gilbert Halaby