Citizen of The World
Citizen of the World
The world is my homeland, there is no wall or flag
that cuts the horizon or cages my voice,
the earth is a map without border lines,
and the soul sails without owner or god.
We are people before creeds,
humanity that beats in the same rhythm,
there is no skin that defines, there is no temple or steel,
we bleed the same red under the same sun.
Borders are shadows that fear has created,
inventions of kingdoms that forget their reason:
a tree does not choose where it puts its branch,
nor does the river ask why it must flow.
What is a nation but a name in the sand?
The ocean erases it, the whirlwind carries it away.
Citizens of the world, of ears of wheat and snow,
of deserts that sing, of forests in bloom.
Free from religions that impose their seal,
from colors that judge, from false illusion,
we are children of time, of clay and stars,
a crucible of stories united by a single heartbeat.
Wars are wounds that someone has not healed,
flags are shreds of an old grudge.
Let us open the veins of this living planet:
its pulse is life, its song, unity.
There is no south or north when we look at the sky,
there is no east or west in the flight of a bird,
there is only the embrace that asks no permission,
the shared bread, the common future.
Citizen of the wind, of all roads,
you do not define me by gods, by kings, by honor.
My homeland is the kiss that unites wounds,
the hand that lifts up those who have fallen in pain.
If we erase the lines drawn by hatred,
if “you” and “I” merge into a single love,
the earth will be a boat of bread and wheat,
and the world, at last, a true home.
Break the chains, awaken the peoples!
For no one is a stranger in this garden.
We are roots of the same ancient forest,
citizens of the world... and the world is within you.
—Luis Barreda/LAB
