It has become a sadistic ritual to even glance at the news. I wonder when the nightmare will end. Indeed, I wonder when it began, for it seems that the abyss of our curren
t existences has infinitely no beginning and no end.The soil of our land is turning red with the blood of the innocents. It is a land forsaken. Forsaken by its people, forsaken by its leaders, forsaken by its gods. We turn our eyes and bury our heads in the tainted sands. We can no longer bear our reality. We have become like the very ones we promised we would never imitate. We have become a people of silence, a spirit broken, cowering in fear.
Our lyricists have gone silent. Subservient to the powers, more imperialist now than fifty years ago. Yet there are those who will claim that such utterances are cloaked in hyperbole.
The truth, running at its lowest ever approval ratings, has become a precious commodity. It is like gold. One must dig through torrents of mud to find a speck. But unlike gold, that speck fetches such a devalued price that one wonders if it was worth finding it in the first place. It is not helped by the fact that as one digs for more specks, thousands fold more mud is poured in a valiant and many times successful attempt to keep them hidden.
Yet there is hope, for there must be. Though broken, there are a few who still remain with a resolve, steadfast so, that the truth be uncovered. While some remain with their heads in the sand and others exploit it for whatever they can get, still, there are others who insist that the innocents must be avenged. And they dig through the sands for the truth, despite the machinations of the imperialists.
We seek a leader. No. Not the romantic notion of a saviour, but a true leader. A leader of his people, not of his bankers. But first, we need the people to awake from their slumber and find within themselves such a person. For it is within the people that change must come. It must come with a fiery desire and an unmasked ambition for that which is better.
But, like the abyss aforementioned, no end is in sight and one harkens back to the stark reality of the present. Realising that, though personal opinion may be strong, it has not manifested into a collective movement. One can only hope that that movement will not come at too late a time to save the few remaining pillars of the nation that are still worth saving.
I say hope, because I no longer say pray. Indeed, like those who have left the shores of this once paradise for lands deemed safer it seems as if God too has decided that he has had enough. What more can be deduced, when millions of prayers every week, in our churches, temples and mosques go unanswered. When men of the cloth become men of the prisons or martyrs in the streets? We look upon God, even our leaders call his name, but, out of earshot, no response comes. Yet, like children who don't know better, the flock returns every week to beg for an intervention, trusting instead an abstract deity to save them rather than dealing proactively with a reality that has manifest itself more terribly now, than ever before.
"The belief in God is not therefore based on the perception of design in nature. Belief in design in nature is based upon the belief in God. Things are as they are whether there is a God or not. Logically, to believe in design one must start with God. He, or it, is not a conclusion but a datum. You may begin by assuming a creator, and then say he did this or that; but you cannot logically say that because certain things exist, therefore there is a God who made them. God is an assumption, not a conclusion. And it is an assumption that explains nothing."- Chapman Cohen
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