I see so many prisoners. I deeply desire to send them love and to free them.
They will share tragedy.
They will cry over overflowing rubbish in English rivers (today’s example).
They will tweet that they are broken yet will not go out each day with bin bags and get to work cleaning up the mess.
That’s someone else’s job.
They will share horrors and infectious beliefs in the name of acting out ‘I don’t believe this, observe, ye lowly folk, how very good I am, what fine opinions I hold, unlikely this attention-miner.
They must like Trump still.
They must pose stupidly in photographs.
It’s an impossibility to be peaceful, principled and spread beauty. For most.
But there are a few of us. Pacifists, those that would have got the white handkerchief. We realise, now, that the World Wars were lies, those brave men shunned for not wanting to go vainly to do others’ bidding.
We must live our own lives.
Not blindly and stubbornly support the ‘thing’.
We discern, we decide, we live noble lives full of decency.
We try our very best.