Mindless Wings: An Ode to an Insanity Called Terrorism

You shall not have what you toiled for,
The Bliss of Virgins your mind made to yearn.
There is nothing meta-real but things real.
All that is given shape to bursts not into life
Only because imagination gives them mindless wings.

I am one such immutable form given breath to,
I live in peccable minds and Holy Scriptures,
Indeed the prime of that shall never be,
In their ancestral deception, in their living dread,
To rationalize the tragedies life is made of.

Ancestral Cry:
Tears are our genuine friend
Bitterness and honey blend

At an age when merciless beasts preyed on them,
Thunderstorms sent chills down their spines,
Deaths of kins froze the blood in their hearts,
In the caves of hopelessness and evolving madness,
I was created fastidiously in the image of human.

I have been righteous and yet not,
Omnipotent, omniscient but not at all,
Creator of ever is yet created out,
Blesser and punisher but whose pawn.
I have been What I Am yet Am Not.

Another Cry:
In our heart is your palace
Wherein found your best solace

In the minds of human I Am and Am Not.
I am half there if only in this world.
In another I shall never come to pass,
Let alone things glorious surrounding me,
You wanting to reap what you did not sow.

Paradox me with your scintillating insensibility,
Enlighten me on your lifeless dreams, son, un-son,
How on earth can you take lives, throwing your own,
Claiming proudly the Greater Life shall be yours.
What good is sinking in a river of self-deception.

Yet Another Cry:
Wherever is your absolute vengeance Lord
We shall sharpen your double-edged sword

You have been an unavoidable horrible means
To the madmen’s obscured ends they never saw.
Oh! How I wish in minds I never was conceived.
What so far in millennia persistently eluded me
Now is laid crystal-clear to me why I am so unreal.