Amongst all that breathes under the sun man is the most insane of them all. If this is false, then why is it that we would spend decades building, nurturing, jealously protecting only for us to destroy all within minutes, hours or days—we would succumb to violence—usher him into our homes to set ablaze our peace—to unleash destruction, debilitating hopelessness and deep sorrow. To put our children in shackles—burden their hearts with issues that even adult dread. There is indeed insanity in the world of man—a world rotten of intolerance—buried in violence.
The future of the human race is threatened, this much I know, because the greedy eyes of war are on our little ones.
If there is anything immaculate under heaven it should be a baby—but hate would order a man to snatch from a mother her suckling child and dash him on a wall in the name of fighting for his country. Wickedness, selfishness and greed we wear with pride like royal robes all in the name of country love; deforming children and selling some into slavery; throwing into the blazing furnace the future of humankind.
Let us all practice the medicine of peace protection and life preservation—the application of loving force to alleviate the deceases of prejudice, violence and child abuse in other to preserve and sustain human existence; and our world would be a healthier place—free from the cancer and influenza of hate and violence—a world whose future is not shackled by war.
A world at peace is a world living; a world at war is a world existing. Peace prospers a nation—she nourishes her spirit, soul and body; but disunity bleeds her—saps her of strength. Disunity brings rottenness into the bones of nations—disunity means fear—it makes going to the playground or a market a fraught with death. Disunity makes our nation like a stick of broom—even a child can snap it into several pieces. Disunity takes our children from our trembling hands and put them in shackles—befuddled their hearts in shambles.
Our world is doomed if our children remains shackled by violence—the future of humankind dwindles when even children are made to study war. Those who have an eye for evil—the hordes of all nations that wars against peace and the wellbeing of the world's children will all have God the Creator to answer to—what kind of world is this…even children are veterans of war—veterans of horror! Such are the children in shackles of war!
A nation that goes to war will bleed even more profusely to war her way out of war; because after all the shootings, bombings and burning fire are over, a fresh war begins—the nation wars against poverty and diseases—she wars against retrogression. If it took her a decade to build a city, and now the city is in shambles, that means she has retrogressed a decade.
If it took her two decades to produce Doctors, Lawyers, Engineers, Architects, Artists, Writers, Sportsmen and women etc. only for the Spanish flu of war to come and sweep her of a staggering percentage of each of these professionals, such a nation has retrogressed 2 decades. A nation that goes to war will bleed profusely more to war out of war. The war with poverty, insecurity etc may a linger a decade—even more; because war do not only kill the tree—war aims at the seed to ensure extinction hence, prevents continuity—the seed of all nation is children.
What kind of world is this—even children are veterans of war—veterans of horror. They are made to eat the bread of adversity and drink the water of affliction—barring loads too heavy even for grownups—these are the children in shackles of war.
African warlords have the habits of using children to achieve their selfish ends; this they do by forcing this vulnerable age group to take up arms and fight for what they have no idea about. These warlords make children smoke marijuana and the likes to get them in the spirit of murder. They often threaten to kill those children who cannot be anything else but children—those to whom fighting means nothing but their playground squabble. But of the thousands possessed by the spirit of the ruthless soldier, a large number of them end up in their early graves due to lack of experience. The few lucky ones that survived the bloody war end up drug addicts, armed robbers, prostitutes and murders—this are the children in shackles of war.
Some children in the middle-east were brought up in the most dangerous part of this troubled world—a place were going to the playground could mean sudden death; these children know no other life but this life of insecurity and fear—a life that shares same neighouhood with gruesome—these are the children in shackles of war.
War forces thousands out of their homes—they embark on the exodus of the unknown. Amongst these ones are children—terrified and shattered; this little ones are made to forget the life they grew up loving—their schools, playmates and rough and tumbles; birthday parties and photo snuggles. These children are made to embark on a journey into the strange where all are made to live in tents—where even parents would wait to be fed by strangers. These children are a long way from home—a long way from the familiar—they are the children in shackles of war.
Children are no respecter of race, tribe or religion—gladly they would befriend all; but in times of war, we (grownups) forcefully tare them apart—building fortified walls of fire between them—teaching them the language of prejudice and violence; making them watch as dear playmates are brutally slain—these are the children in shackles of war!
Children have been robbed of their dreams by landmines—their hopes perforated by bullets—orphaned by entrenched hatred and topsy-turvy by life—these are the children in shackles of war.
Let us practice the good art of rehabilitation and reconstruction— let us all practice the medicine of peace protection and life preservation—the application of loving force to alleviate the deceases of prejudice, violence and child abuse in other to preserve and sustain human existence— and our world would be a healthier place—a place free from the cancer and influenza of hate and violence—a world whose future is not shackled by war—a world where children cease to be veterans of horror.
The future of the human race is threatened, this much I know, because the greedy eyes of war are on our little ones.
If there is anything immaculate under heaven it should be a baby—but hate would order a man to snatch from a mother her suckling child and dash him on a wall in the name of fighting for his country. Wickedness, selfishness and greed we wear with pride like royal robes all in the name of country love; deforming children and selling some into slavery; throwing into the blazing furnace the future of humankind.
Let us all practice the medicine of peace protection and life preservation—the application of loving force to alleviate the deceases of prejudice, violence and child abuse in other to preserve and sustain human existence; and our world would be a healthier place—free from the cancer and influenza of hate and violence—a world whose future is not shackled by war.
A world at peace is a world living; a world at war is a world existing. Peace prospers a nation—she nourishes her spirit, soul and body; but disunity bleeds her—saps her of strength. Disunity brings rottenness into the bones of nations—disunity means fear—it makes going to the playground or a market a fraught with death. Disunity makes our nation like a stick of broom—even a child can snap it into several pieces. Disunity takes our children from our trembling hands and put them in shackles—befuddled their hearts in shambles.
Our world is doomed if our children remains shackled by violence—the future of humankind dwindles when even children are made to study war. Those who have an eye for evil—the hordes of all nations that wars against peace and the wellbeing of the world's children will all have God the Creator to answer to—what kind of world is this…even children are veterans of war—veterans of horror! Such are the children in shackles of war!
A nation that goes to war will bleed even more profusely to war her way out of war; because after all the shootings, bombings and burning fire are over, a fresh war begins—the nation wars against poverty and diseases—she wars against retrogression. If it took her a decade to build a city, and now the city is in shambles, that means she has retrogressed a decade.
If it took her two decades to produce Doctors, Lawyers, Engineers, Architects, Artists, Writers, Sportsmen and women etc. only for the Spanish flu of war to come and sweep her of a staggering percentage of each of these professionals, such a nation has retrogressed 2 decades. A nation that goes to war will bleed profusely more to war out of war. The war with poverty, insecurity etc may a linger a decade—even more; because war do not only kill the tree—war aims at the seed to ensure extinction hence, prevents continuity—the seed of all nation is children.
What kind of world is this—even children are veterans of war—veterans of horror. They are made to eat the bread of adversity and drink the water of affliction—barring loads too heavy even for grownups—these are the children in shackles of war.
African warlords have the habits of using children to achieve their selfish ends; this they do by forcing this vulnerable age group to take up arms and fight for what they have no idea about. These warlords make children smoke marijuana and the likes to get them in the spirit of murder. They often threaten to kill those children who cannot be anything else but children—those to whom fighting means nothing but their playground squabble. But of the thousands possessed by the spirit of the ruthless soldier, a large number of them end up in their early graves due to lack of experience. The few lucky ones that survived the bloody war end up drug addicts, armed robbers, prostitutes and murders—this are the children in shackles of war.
Some children in the middle-east were brought up in the most dangerous part of this troubled world—a place were going to the playground could mean sudden death; these children know no other life but this life of insecurity and fear—a life that shares same neighouhood with gruesome—these are the children in shackles of war.
War forces thousands out of their homes—they embark on the exodus of the unknown. Amongst these ones are children—terrified and shattered; this little ones are made to forget the life they grew up loving—their schools, playmates and rough and tumbles; birthday parties and photo snuggles. These children are made to embark on a journey into the strange where all are made to live in tents—where even parents would wait to be fed by strangers. These children are a long way from home—a long way from the familiar—they are the children in shackles of war.
Children are no respecter of race, tribe or religion—gladly they would befriend all; but in times of war, we (grownups) forcefully tare them apart—building fortified walls of fire between them—teaching them the language of prejudice and violence; making them watch as dear playmates are brutally slain—these are the children in shackles of war!
Children have been robbed of their dreams by landmines—their hopes perforated by bullets—orphaned by entrenched hatred and topsy-turvy by life—these are the children in shackles of war.
Let us practice the good art of rehabilitation and reconstruction— let us all practice the medicine of peace protection and life preservation—the application of loving force to alleviate the deceases of prejudice, violence and child abuse in other to preserve and sustain human existence— and our world would be a healthier place—a place free from the cancer and influenza of hate and violence—a world whose future is not shackled by war—a world where children cease to be veterans of horror.
Source...