If we want the world to move forward,
we must hold hands. Documenting the pain and the joy,
on the same page,
with water, with fire, with ashes
not with ink.
Freedom means nothing when the healthy and the sick
eat at separate tables.
Even the trees sit together. They know that life is actually simple.
But once people renounced their entitlement,
it will take more than a revolution
to reclaim such a right.
For too long we took the wrong turn.
What kind of world is this if
the madman tells us that
we should be ashamed of ourselves?