Visions of a dead man

I am lost,
In the drift of souls
From the debris of the leftovers of life
That lay strewn around on the foot path
Of the capital city
Or in the burnt ruins of the
Symbol of hospitality,
In a rival capital.

I am one with the drift
It is a strange amalgamate of souls,
That sing in the name of happiness, souls
That rejoice in the name of love, souls
That cry in unition at a loss unimaginable.
Unable to tear away from the lifeless bodies
Unable to see the loss on the faces
Of the ones we leave behind.

I am on my journey
As a soul that hopes
To never be born again
To live in the divisions
Created in the name of Isms
In a world that looses its sanity
A world that has lost its zest
For the Ism of Life.

My reaction to the turn of recent terrorist activites in the subcontinent. I love life and cant understand how or why some factions insist on wasting such a lot of it.

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