Skipping over the read bead my eye does not count it, and I try to add another gold bead before I realize my mistake. How quickly the eye discriminates. There are 4 beads in the stitch, but 5 softly becomes 4 when one does not fit. And he said ÒitÕs all black and white babyÓ like the color of my skin defines what is in me. Inside my heart a whole palate of colors undulates on broken waves where neon green sings as it melds with purplish-pink and they throw their hands up in joyous crests of muddy brown. It is in the wake of internal quality, when colors dry stagnantly on the canvassed sands, that they then truly stand alone. It is not just ignorance or prejudice without consent from the mind and heart it is natureÕs intent to dissect and divide: Òyou stay with them over there honey, (youÕre white)Ó. And in a world where NatureÕs tooth drips red With the blood of anything that stood out it really makes sense to cloister in groups, chameleons blending together. What stands alone is eaten. So thatÕs why I never see a bumblebee with a purple stripe, an ant with a passion for nonconformity, a black boy willing to love me. But in this anatomically correct brain a version of nature dwells not without, but within. And I have to ask when it is that we will stop being so fearful of being eaten. Hell, weÕre all part of the food chain, but there comes a time when everyone must decide whether they are the predator or the prey. A victim fallen prey to the laws of natural society, or the predator breaking free. Rising up together day and night, whatÕs wrong becomes right and Social Darwinism just chuckles, turns away and sighs, skulking back to Origins with tears in its eyes. In between breaths a beads breadth just redefined black and white.