Time is an eternal ring of blinding darkness

A sea of unknown, of hopes of surreal

To live is to know, and yet we kneel

To the despotic master of fear, of war

To live is to know but we try no more

To see what must be seen, to do what must be done

Constantly we are choked by the snake of ignorance

Its venom of distrust seeps through holes

As it stings our flesh and burns our souls

It blackens our hearts till they are no more

But the tongue of hate, we must not ignore

It has reaped the souls with its golden words

That shine with bittersweet promises, of a surreal world

If we must die once, why die thrice?

For what do we allow the ignorant snake, the hateful tongue,

To seize us, to wrench us, to silence the voice that once sung?

Why do we drown in the abstract sea,

If life is today and tomorrow is yet to be?

For whom do we live, if we think of but one?

For what do we dream, if we dream for but one?

Why do we steal, we murder, we lie?

The answer yesterday knows not, for today it is nigh

If the here and now is what we must see

Why do we yearn for what will never be?

The guilty is he who has not ceased to hold

The hope, the desperate hope, of a surreal world.

– Ayah Gouda