How come the air of this world has become so cruel, this world so full of sorrow and smell of shades of human body that is leaning on the death’s table? How can the heart bear all these volcanoes of decayed emotions, all these rivers of hatred, malignity and disgust? Why everywhere a taste of leads and gunpowder and not of sunflower? How can we bare that when we count the victims, the number of dead people has become more than the number of words? How can we write elegies when there is a graveyard behind every ode?
Now, we stand upon the same edge, saying:
What happened, what’s happening and what will happen is a fruit of poisoned lotus tree. A tree with deep roots in the body and soul, in reality and imagination, in the eternal and the ephemeral, in waiting and in absence, in the mind and madness… This tree has infiltrated through the grey history of this being who has become more hostile and cold than the leads he hides in his pocket.
Would the world look beautiful without metaphysics? Probably.
Here and there, many more people will fall down on the road, before we will reach for life in a geography that will still bleed for centuries. It’s not, at the end, war’s drums between here and there, it’s a ferocious battle. Its splinters are scattering all over the Earth. It’s a long battle that life must win. Inside it, we’ve to exceed the remains of past’s desert in our souls. That cannot be realized without establishing a civil and democratic society, fighting against totalitarianism and unilateral and absolute thinking. It cannot be done without establishing the culture of love and beauty. It’s the only road we have to follow to stop these massacres of innocent human beings as well as all other crimes against humanity.