The sound of silence...

" How many times must a man look up

  Before he can see the sky

  How many years must one man have

  Before he can hear people cry

  How many deaths will it take till he knows

  That too many people have died

  The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind

  The answer is blowing in the wind "

The answer has swept across the terra firma, pausing in its endeavor to dwell in the hearts of the benighted souls and also pausing to re-affirm the goodness of peace in the noble souls...

But its voyage is still incomplete...

The answer seems to have fallen on few deaf ears which refuse to acknowledge the sound of silence...

The silence that is an aftermath of the booming guns, of the ear-splitting noise of the grenade blasts, of the deafening wails of mothers, of the incongruous chirping of birds jolted by ammunition from the azure...

How do we deal with such silence ?

Maybe my poem 'The Mind of a Terrorist' will provide an answer...

Aphorisms; None obstruct his way

For the heart is dead and the mind’s gone astray;

His conscience today tells no tales

For it has drowned among those deafening wails;

And anguish and pain and grief and despair

Of those whose loved ones, did never he spare.

To him, sympathy and love, would be abstract phrases

For a heart bred on hatred, throughout the ages;

Barren deserts would reveal more fertile features

Than this mind, supreme among all creatures;

And today, he is a threat to the human civilization

Which preserve can we only through his elimination.

A blanket of red...

" Where have all the soldiers gone ?

  Gone to graveyards, everyone

  When will they ever learn ?

  Oh, when will they ever learn ? "

I think the color of blood needs to be transformed...

Because unless we change it to blue.

The earth shall cease to be the big blue marble.

The sun would no longer descend into the oceans. It would be lost in a wilderness of red.

The lotus would lose its significance in a rubicund landscape...

So how do we change the color ?

My poem " The Price We Pay " shall answer... 

Ten thousand, my eyes scanned at a glance

Some battered and bruised, some denied a chance;

To play with their children in the next vacation

For death had played spoilsport on this occasion.

The war ushered in a premature end

To many a lives, lost every second.

“ My brother! ”, he wailed; “ My son! ”, she wept

Though all through night, Peace blissfully slept;

For there was not much that Peace could have done

Against the desire of potent humans.

For more strength you have, more blood you shed

More land you gather, more wealth is bred;

And wealth is something we curb cannot

For wealth yields power and wars are fought.

But is it too much that we ask for

When we ask the world, to refrain from wars.