Whisperings
01.11.07 (4:45 pm) [edit]
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 Today at least we have ideals, Things we strive for, Would like to be true, but the time is not yet. We talk of brotherhood, Understanding, Learning to love those who are different, Good things, Perhaps, at least in the area of ideas, we are evolving. Yet in spite of that some things are getting worse, Boundaries going up, Primitive impulses once again in ascendance, Raising fears and stereotypes, With just enough truth to make them dangerous. I see it rising within my own soul, Anger, hatred, seeking my attention, Their snarling images and whisperings speak to me Speaking of things to come. “They, Them, Dangerous, must be stopped at all cost, Not one innocent, All a danger, Evil.” Using terror even among themselves, Killing innocents, Women, children, There own people. Destroying those who think differently, Freedom gone where they rule. You can’t fight terror and win, Terror must be fought with terror, If won at a cost truly horrific. A terrible thought Yet there, At times sneering at my pretensions of love, Compassion, Empathy for others. It is time, The blood drenched sun and moon speak to me, Of what is too come. Yes we have ideals, Better, true, than in the past, Yet below the surface we still rage Fearful of what is to become, Interested in only our own, Our loved ones, Those outside are that, Outside. One day the straw will drop, The back will be broken, And then, Terror will fall upon them, Their cities made hostage because of terror, Cities will fall, Holy places destroyed, Peoples expelled from theiradopted lands, Feared, Hated, Without pity will they be destroyed, Such is the price of terror, Sent out one time too many. How will we survive? So primitive are we, Underneath the facade, The culture, Lurks warriors in lust for blood, Revenge, Destroying those who are a threat. What is to become of us? These cycles that have a life and pattern of their own? It grows, A cancer of hatred and fear, Infecting all, The primal force gathering slowly Devouring our humanity, Eating the souls of men, Until only darkness remains, Death. Yet we are truly brothers and sisters, Made in God’s image, Of infinite value, All forgotten in the orgy to come, Or perhaps it will not, Perhaps the inner hunger can be controlled. If not the many will pay for the crimes of the few, Their silence, Only hastening what must come if no change possible. The storm is coming, Perhaps I am wrong, If so I will be happy, I fear otherwise. May God have pity on all of us his Children. |