Pools of blood

I can't write anything much on this disaster because it hurts when you literally sit down and think of the blood pools..the people who were cut in the prime of their lives and more than anything...this happening to Mumbai...

Is this really what our world has become?
A dive into nothingness?
Where the people we love and care for,
Are the paints used to smear the landscape of terror?

What if,one day, we leave our homes,
And return to find it empty,
With only traces of blood around,
That remained to tell the story?

With gaping eyes,
We stare at the horrific, appalling, gruesome massacre,
Of our souls, our love, our harmony,
The intangible essence of our being.

Life goes on,
That’s what they say,
But does it really?
Do YOU really think so?

Does it make us forget,
The love we lost,
The day that fear and distrust took the reins?

Lets unite,
Yes we can,
And put these cowards to shame,
Make them realize what we're worth,
And how weak, pathetic and feeble they are in retrospect...

Illusions

I had written this when I was in the 11th grade... Don't really remember how and why this thought came up... But whatever it was, it was important to me...

When anyone reads anything which he wishes to read or study, he does not despise the letters and punctuation marks and call them illusion, chance or worthless shells..but reads them..studies them..loves them...letter by letter...word by word. But I who wished to read the book of my world..my life, did presume to despise the letters and signs. I called the world of reality , illusion and appearance. I called my eyes and tongue , chance......Often it takes some calamity to make us live in the present. Then suddenly we wake up and see all the mistakes we have made. But as they say it is never too late to change anything....