All Blood Is Red. All Bones Are White. All Sweat Is Golden. For It Is Not The Color Of Our Skins, But The Spirit Within. Poem by Nikhil Parekh

There might exist eyes; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this fathomlessly eclectic Universe,

There might exist hair; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this boundlessly virile Universe,

There might exist skin; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this mystically resplendent Universe,

There might exist lips; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this unbelievably emollient Universe,

But. All blood is Immortally Red; All bones are Symbiotically White. All sweat is Perseveringly Golden. For it is not the color of our spuriously shriveled skins; but the Omnipotently inexhaustible spirit to live and let live; which is perpetually sacred within.

1.

There might exist eyelashes; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this handsomely majestic Universe,

There might exist desires; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this triumphantly effulgent Universe,

There might exist victory; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this pristinely priceless Universe,

There might exist fantasy; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this magically mitigating Universe,

But. All blood is Poignantly Red; All bones are Celestially White. All sweat
is Holistically Golden. For it is not the color of our sporadically extinguishing skins; but the regally Omnipresent spirit to live and let live; which is perpetually sacred within.

2.

There might exist noses; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory
of this ecstatically mesmerizing Universe,
There might exist destiny lines; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of this brilliantly undaunted Universe,

There might exist eyebrows; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this unceasingly proliferating Universe,

There might exist brains; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this miraculously blessed Universe,

But. All blood is Unitedly Red; All bones are Impeccably White. All sweat is
Timelessly Golden. For it is not the color of our penuriously squeamish skins; but the insuperably Omniscient spirit to live and let live; which is perpetually sacred within.

3.

There might exist shadows; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this victoriously gargantuan Universe,

There might exist freedom; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this unflinchingly intrepid Universe,

There might exist melody; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this perennially virgin Universe,

There might exist beauty; in an infinite shades and shapes on the trajectory of
this unconquerably unfettered Universe,

But. All blood is Inimitably Red; All bones are Heavenly White. All sweat is Gloriously Golden. For it is not the color of our intermittently wailing skins; but the unsurpassably untamed spirit to live and let live; which is perpetually sacred within.