Checkered Battlefield

When stories on the wind are blown,
A seed called prejudice is sown.
Its nutrients : ignorance and fear,
The plant's thorns pierce each falling tear.

Why do we live like knights in chess,
When we all the same feelings possess?
From the checkered battlefield let us walk,
Teach us the language of God as we talk.

The words of any language can be mimed,
The beauty of silence can be rhymed.
Many things are black and white,
They go together like day and night.

White are the blossoms,
Black are their shadows,
If God wanted colours divided,
Why are there rainbows in meadows?