Swirls of the Great Master's Masterpiece
Carried on the terrified blasts of the
fleeing, the screaming,
Torn Away by the horrific backdraft.
Trapped in their House of Cards,
Collapsed by the pointing of an
inhuman finger,
Wrought in Hatred and Evil.
Raping this Sanctity of Life,
Rejoicing in the blood-splattered
streets thousands of miles away,
They are bereft of their Meeting.
Hundreds of Heores. Lost
Amid the Heat and Twisted Metal
of unconstituted war
For the Rescue of Joy.
Not a Dream, though too
Horrible to be other than an abrupt
awakening in a
Nightmarish sweat of helplessness.
Do not let this day pass unasnwered.
Let not their names, these martyres,
be forgotten,
Lest we should sanction Hell on Earth
and Feed our Freedom to its Flames.
Talkback: Post Reply | View replies (5)
