" You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself " - A Buddhist Saying
Ya Firdaus Barruhe Zamanast
The horrors of a child transmuted into a political storm,
A nestled valley where apparently Gods live, now unsettled,
The stage is set to make a mockery of civil governance.
We write petitions, post messages and hashtags, plead for justice,
Doing whatever we can to lessen the burden on our spirits,
Our collective conscience shredded by the unfathomable depravity of men!
Her family leaves for the hills, to get away from this evil Circus,
This mountainous path they have taken many a time, mostly in wonder and joy,
This time its long and arduous, almost treacherous.
Far from the heavens she watches the orchestrated maelstrom,
Snuggled in the embrace of the Creator, she is now finally secure,
Yet, her cries for help will forever haunt the Valley of the Gods
How does one even mourn for an eight year old angel?
Copyright 2018 - An Unrestrained Stream - All Rights Reserved