On the Illusions of Power, the Lie of War, and the Cost of Forgetting
War or revolution—since the dawn of humanity, the rivers and lakes of the world never cease, and strife never ends.
How many cunning hypocrites masquerade in your name?
How many noble souls, for the light of justice, charge forward and fall, their blood staining the sands.
How many arrogant schemers, under the banner of God, the Nation, or the People, have unleashed bloody wars, their true motives rooted in private greed rather than public good—leaving behind a ruined country and starving citizens ?
How many ignorant fools, for nothing more than petty prejudice or worthless pride, have dragged nations into destruction and families into despair?
Too many wars and conflicts are built on the pillars of human vanity, folly, and lies. A rabble, swept up in delusion, surges forth, heedless and headlong, spilling their blood and brains—only to live as ants and die as straw, their names erased before they even fall.
Why fight? For whom?
Who is foe? Who is friend?
What world are we striving to forge?
And how do we ensure that world isn’t quietly stolen by thieves and power-hungry wolves?
If this war is not for the awakening of the soul, not for self-evident justice, not for a fierce stand against the roots of corruption and decay.
Then it is nothing but naked evil, a slaughter draped in the garb of righteousness.
Most wars in history—empty of virtue.
Border conflicts in the west—driven by hallucinations.
For every general who rises, ten thousand bones lie beneath his feet.
Think of the nameless corpses by the river of Wuding—who mourns for them now?
Western power intoxicates like aphrodisiacs—seductive and wild.
Eastern power poisons like meth—cold, corrosive, and addictive.
And in the courts of power, smiles abound—false, practiced, hollow.
The world below burns in anger, yet the halls above still sing and dance.
This power—wormlike—devours marrow, rots thought, empties minds.
Its stench seeps through centuries, through screens, through souls.
A thousand years of decay still parade as “civilization,” preaching virtue while feasting on bones.
We, the ants—we must reflect.
We must not be pawns for fools, nor blades for thieves.
We must stretch our wings and gaze upon the heavens.
We must pierce the illusion, defend the freedom of our spirits, and imprison the tyrants who would make slaves of us all.
