Metaphor of Descent

The world is a quilt, and each patch is a nation
Bound by a thread since the days of creation
Adorned with great color and radiant splendor
Though divided by race and religion and gender
In some eyes, it is handsome, in others contorted
The patches are different, unmatched and unsorted
Incongruous in pattern, in shape and in color
Not one is much similar to any other
So some try to imagine one great design
But in truth, our uniqueness is really just fine
Nations and patches of all kinds and all sorts
Customs, religions, languages, sports
This is okay if each patch has its space
And on the quilt of the world, each nation has its place
But the stitches that bind us are easily shed
By the wars that are fought and the words that are said
We must realize the appearance of no patch is inferior
And the ways of no nation can make it superior
Divided by oceans, united by a dream
The world is a quilt, and our love is its seam

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