Political blunders ( France selling armaments to Kaddafi's Libya )

I awaken to the principles of life which suffers through every perpetuating time;
I pick rags , tattered pieces of truth from its coffins and from its sepulchres;
I tread upon wet drops of blood, beneath crucifixes, railway tracks, of bodies chopped in hospital morgues;
I watch them do arithmetics as they prepare to rehearse the farce before the blind folded Seraph;
I smell the flesh scorching in crematoriums to please a Hitler's nostrils;
I read epitaths of a wronged civilization now shrouded by oblivion;
I see hollow sockets with their visionless stare still speaking of something they bore witness to;
I 'm in mute continual search for spectre of truth..
While each time i stumble upon a severed limb, a mutililated head, a half eaten corpse, a chewed bone, an unmasked grave, a crusader's sword burried beneath seaweeds......

In a shovelfull of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Reflects within them the picture of my own submerged violence
I collect from these, piece by piece, of myself.