The Smile of the Unvanquished

  Distance, the claw that crushes the bone, exposes the marrow to the relentless sun. Distance, the hammer that covers the shield with sturdy nails, their iron heads scorching the eyes of hostile throngs. Distance, averse to swoons and sieges shuffling as in a slow dance along the thin brittle line between the inscrutable and the banality. Distance, obedient to a particularist law, sowing the earth despite wide turmoils, raising a legacy: an unfurled defiant calyx    

in the end, asphalt and green jungles look all the same, the same monotony and the same hustle and bustle... the same stench of putrescence and the same perfume of mirth and colour.... only that if you demolish one, it threats a way, a style of life, the other the basic foundation of life.... now that's an idea: to destroy nature (which with all cosmic ongoings and panspermia could be breathed with new life), then render mankind so dependent of its technology and gluttonous luxurious life style till someone removes the plug and let it crumble away so mankind will perish by resorting to the worst display of inhumanity and lack of survival skills and ancestral knowledge plus a planet gone almost inhabitable beyond the shielded vestiges of the urban complexes doing the rest to extinction to happen...