Shuttered eyes fail to see dreams of the needy.
Hardened hearts do not share the glory of blessings.
Deafened ears cannot hear the weeping of the lonely.
Silent mouths never offer comfort to the melancholic.
Folded arms can never feel sympathy for the broken.

How many deeds of kindness can we just let go?
Little acts of kindness
brighten the world deprived of care,
dispelling the shadows
residing in impotent clouds.

So I do all the little things
to share my fragrance
during dreary sunsets and misty rainbows.

If kindness, I may call,
arouses from the pithy philosophy of generosity,
then all I learn is to un-stone myself,
to love the illogical and the unreasonable.

An act devoid of condition
makes a heart a little less ailing,
renders the diseased a little less sick,
helps the aged to feel a little less old,
makes the shattered a little less torn.

Then there is cradle, there is light, and there is progress,
as I transform into benevolent humans
with magnanimous hearts,
who bear the capacity to travel through hollows,
to sing in sadness,
to resprout hope in the dead,
and to keep the other before oneself.

This is the only kindness I know…