When I was praying with my brush strokes

When the fire is burning away

When all the children are dead and silent

When birds all stop singing

When piercing bullets Tear down human flesh

When the Children of Abraham

Disregard and divide themselves.

I am sitting in front of the mirror watching the world burn away.

Knowing no amount of opinions or brush strokes

Will ever bring the dead, lost childhood, Obliterated roads and alleys, withered hope.

Those runaway birds are never coming back.

They are afraid of us now.

They are silent as they are bearing All the sins of our choices and the burden of supreme intelligence.

Today I’m sitting here baffled

Gazing at my reflection

Searching and praying to the gods That abandoned us.

Today I am incapable of Thoughts, incapable of right doings and wrong doings.

The only thing I can do Is to pray with my brush.

Saying the prayer With each brush stroke at a time

To the gods and humanity Who are slowly forgetting each other.