When you see that face, those eyes, and their actions…
Stepping on children’s chest, pointing those guns in the face of those children,
And probably pulling the hair of those women, who seem too afraid to even scream,
And be hit in the face again and again, and finally, be violated of their purity…
Yes, I am sure; there’d be a wrench in the heart and a kind of silent yearn for justice from the voice of compassion, pity… whatever.
Yet, for whom would this be for?
And ah… so you see,
The brutes, are not really
but forgotten Gods.
And when you have remembered them in vain, that they are Gods;
They begin to join you in remembering themselves,
And you too, and the children, and the women…
The only justice that can ever be served here is in Remembering that they have forgotten, and Recognizing them anyway for who they are innately.