16 December 2014
It was the day,
When the lamps of future were blown off,
When a garden of roses was ravaged,
By the brute.
Flowers and petals were trampled,
By the animals.
They moved unrestrained,
Though the roses were thrown upon thorns,
The petals were pricked,
And they withered very soon.
Yet the pain left behind,
And the fragrance too,
Will remain fresh,
In the coming years of centuries.
Oh, you brute, think not you are the winner.
Know that, in both worlds, you are the loser.
The voilence swept away the flowers of my garden.
What happened, was injurous.
What happened, was ruinous.
But I vow,
I vow by the tearful eyes of the mothers,
and by the painful cries of the children.
the future will be a message of triumph,
& the new morning, for the enemy, will be a failure.
The peace will be forever,
& the war will be never.
I vow this by God.........