Roar!

At every tick and tock of the clock, the world moves an inch closer to its peril, the most stupendous of views get horrendously mocked, there is death and there is birth. Distortions mangle meaning, sense and real beauty, and life grows in its sour insipidity. Falsehood thrives, half-truths rule, lies sit on the throne, eavesdroppers twist stories, manipulators win accolades, the self-centered and greedy ones are called the wise, black is seen as white and deadly venom is finger-lickin' sweet.

The moment you sense grey area in an image that is portrayed as clear, clean, sincere and simple, you need to get out and run. Run for your life. To a simple mind that has not been exposed to the dirtiest of the games, these things are beyond comprehension. The more you spend time understanding what this actually is, your mind badly needs to be repeatedly alarmed that you have already started to reel down and the monstrous storm is sucking you in for the kill. Even your honest search for truth will go against you, because the ones who you seek truth from - intentionally hold the wrong signboards that is sure going to lead you to hell. The scene gets intense when you are playing your dice at the behest of people who you are trying to defend, the same people who have already stabbed you and you do not know it yet, and you get to know of this just before your death when you accidentally put your hand back to touch your own blood-stains and understand that the object sticking out is the handle of the dagger poisoned and plunged fully in, long ago. And there is no means to escape death and live again.

So you die. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. The last few beats of a heart that willfully over-looked mistrust and betrayal because it believed the whole world to be good. The final moments of a life used and exploited, and now thrown away because the time is done. The land of the living does not house the dead ones. They bin the expired products and bury their dead, not to see them again. We are just resources and commodities, and not men and women with a heart that bleeds passion. Ah, this passion - they very well knew - needed to be juiced out before the heart stopped its beating.

After your final breath and giving up the ghost, the story doesn't end there. Time shall roar. Yes, roar. It shall roar with the loudest of voice awakening the dead conscience of the liars, the exploiters and the back-biters, and would correct their hearts to goodness. Why do you not think harm for them? Why should they not die and disappear? No, that is not the cause a real fighter, who has seen and been in real fights, would clench his fists for. No principled person would ever fight 'over' trivialities. He would just stand, not acting like a bitten dog losing his composure, but would just stand and grin. The grin that tells many stories. Is it not too much to think if they would ever be directed to goodness? Yes or no, do not care. Oh, just do not care when you know that you mean no more than a rotting corpse to them. But hope for the best. Let them be infested with greater blessings and the springs of life. God doesn't judge us according to how much we endured, but how much we could love. And what else are we really left with, but to wish everyone all the goodness and to show our love to the weak and the meek in every form possible. Let the whole world be blessed, despite its villainy and deceit.