Think

A flock of pigeons on your window ledge

Creating an absolute ruckus, waking you from your hard earned slumber

You sit up angrily, determined to shoo them all way

Ugly grey machines of noise

You flap your hands around like a madman

On a mission to stimulate an exodus

But just then a white pigeon arrives

Like the ultimate messiah of peace

A flawless pearl on a grey ocean floor

This beautiful guest changes your mood

And you stare lovingly at its luminous feathers

As for the grey pigeons, you choose to ignore them

In favor of their royal white cousin

Who has unknowingly saved the day for the entire flock.

But is the white pigeon aware

Of the spell it has cast on you?

Is it aware that it is white and unique and beautiful

Or does it feel left out, an outcast

Is it proud to be white? Or would it rather be grey

May be that’s why it has arrived suddenly amidst the grey flock

Determined to seek acceptance

Desperate to blend in with its friends

Unwilling to be treated like an alien

Ashamed to be colorless and transparent

Is beauty about being distinct or being well accepted?

No one is the ultimate judge

No one has the last word

Not even the creator

Because he has created us all with his own hands

And to judge us, to pity us

Would be to pity himself.