Grass, Weeds and Bush

There was nothing to watch. I surfed through channels, my old-is-gold TV crackling like old witch (if witches were meant to crackle). Same old. Some things never change. George W. Bush was making one of his faces, the smiley one, as he spoke again about his war on terrorism. ‘We have not failed…’ he says. Situation has improved in Iraq. People now begin to understand the value of freedom. As he speaks, a news bar scrolls across the bottom of screen, informing some thirty people have died of suicide bomb attacks. Hah! I thought, and loath the thought itself…not worth the thinking…

People make promises amidst test of pointless reconciliation, often bargaining their sanity.Why? We dare not ask. We would not ask. We have no answer. Not even the question.

We are full of lies. We humour ourselves by convincing ourselves. We are humans. We are wont to be corrupted. Weak beings that we are, we succumb meekly, poised as some daredevil, seething against unclaimed magnificence. This is a difficult time, our time. We talk of moving forward.

Yes, all things must move ahead. Death is the end. There is no anti-thesis for this. We only have our wish, a hope, shrouded in emotions, weak and dying.

George W. Bush or the Dalai Lama, we have our own reason to wage war or to spread peace. We have our own purpose. But we learn to live, all of us, despite the fact that we do not yet learn to die.

Grass, Weeds and Bush. What are they? I asked myself…Slowly, the answer began to dawn in me, quickly fading along with the question. It was not an important question. The answer was a good one though. But I have already forgotten it.

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