" 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.
