When Lines Blur

I saw a man ask for his son's name to be inscribed on a missile. His son had died in the attack on the world trade centre. He asked for his son to be remembered on a bomb. A bomb that went on to kill hundreds, if not thousands, of other innocents.

I saw the man who dropped the first bomb on Iraq. He was smiling. He thought it wasn't everyday one got the opportunity to be the one to carry out an act of such grave importance.

I saw the men whose minds conceived and nurtured the ideas behind the wars the world is, even now, engaged in. They were all smiling. They were proud of their accomplishment. Each one of them.

Power does that. It changes how one sees the world. Like a smoke-screen. Everything seems insignificant in the face of power. Especially to those who are under the illusion of being the ones that wield it.

That is what happens when the lines between freedom and tyranny become hazy. When the lines between democracy and imperialism blur. When the difference between nightmare and reality becomes a mere shadow, and you can't tell one from the other.