Can we start from where we are?
Can we start with a presumption of my ignorance?
Tell me a little of your life.
Our difference.
The first music that I ever heard
Playing in the yard behind Grandmother's house
The house in which my mother grew
Was not the same as yours.
The food whose fragrance drifted from the kitchen
Calling me from play
Was not the same as yours.
The toys that were my friends
My champions and my distractions
Were not the same as yours.
The market place
From which my Father's toil
Built up the roof over our heads
Was not the same as yours.
My father in so many ways,
Was not the same as yours.
The days of all my life
Are different from yours
The lessons that I learnt
Mistakes I made
My triumphs and disasters
Are printed on a different page.
Will you now let me learn from you?
Admit another point of view?
And let our different pages
Pressed together in the book of life
Narrate a richer word?
In Avesta, the language of Persian / Iranian Zoroastrianism, Hamazor means 'interconnected'.
