The misunderstanding of spirituality
The altered sense of wisdom
The bloodshed
The flames
The rape
The massacres
All beneath the mask of skin colour, and religious backgrounds !
Sonnet 47
I gave the guardians of my saneness
A recess to lay their burdens aside,
And I tossed the fears that fed my lameness
Off the cliffs of my magnitude and pride.
Saneness is conditioned by where I live
Hence I soar and hover above the earth,
And drop my thoughts which with warm love I give
To rain o'er the black and white with much mirth.
Whether born on the calm Tibetan hills,
Or through the Arabian blazing sand,
Or upon the ranging Alps full of chills,
Slaying each others must come to an end.
Through the bloody deeds of religious rage,
Flow the sad tears of the kind-hearted sage.
