A million suns at midnight could refer to exploding bombs—dropped by fallen angels. Certainly if angels exist—and I believe they do—they are not merely the goody-two-shoes guardians that shepherd little children across busy highways. Angels are as multi-faceted as we are.
I don’t really ever want to see … like I could still see after that …a million suns at midnight either but this could happen. We have the intelligence to create stunning weapons. Those who can are not particularly cognizant of how they could be used or they wouldn’t create them and in life, we do have people waking up every morning, pulsating with tremendous power, thinking things like … I want it all … I think my way is better… I want to hurt you … I don’t like your looks … I just don’t like you and I want you out of here … And these people make giant strides, annihilating thousands, millions … without taking their thoughts and actions to logical conclusion. Would you really be happy if you oinked down most of the world?
In Iran, it’s popular to chant hatred every day—presumably in my mind so they cultivate hate instead of love, suggesting as humans we do not always possess the common sense we imagine we do. So let’s say the magic wand is waved and the chanting works! Tomorrow there is just Iran and everyone else disappears. Following the celebration, jovial Persians set out to re-populate the earth “our way”. If they succeed, there will be no “our way” because although the intent might exist, there would be no diversity to define what “our way” is. Chances are, they would not have the power to control the situation because life rarely listens to our demands simply because they make sense only to us and we haven’t thought them through. Do they stop the custom of chanting hatred daily? Old habits die hard. So they bleed across the planet and the more distant they move from what was originally Iran, the freer they are with their ideas until one day, the big game starts all over and once again the naysayers are wishing the dissenters into the cornfield ala Twilight Zone’s Billy.
I’ve seen cosmic humor. I get nervous because I know that with enough rope we could easily hang ourselves and I can never really decide if seeing a million suns at midnight is someone’s wish and they can wish better than I can. Such is life … always keeps us guessing, I guess …
A million suns at midnight could refer to exploding bombs—dropped by fallen angels. Certainly if angels exist—and I believe they do—they are not merely the goody-two-shoes guardians that shepherd little children across busy highways. Angels are as multi-faceted as we are.
I don’t really ever want to see … like I could still see after that …a million suns at midnight either but this could happen. We have the intelligence to create stunning weapons. Those who can are not particularly cognizant of how they could be used or they wouldn’t create them and in life, we do have people waking up every morning, pulsating with tremendous power, thinking things like … I want it all … I think my way is better… I want to hurt you … I don’t like your looks … I just don’t like you and I want you out of here … And these people make giant strides, annihilating thousands, millions … without taking their thoughts and actions to logical conclusion. Would you really be happy if you oinked down most of the world?
In Iran, it’s popular to chant hatred every day—presumably in my mind so they cultivate hate instead of love, suggesting as humans we do not always possess the common sense we imagine we do. So let’s say the magic wand is waved and the chanting works! Tomorrow there is just Iran and everyone else disappears. Following the celebration, jovial Persians set out to re-populate the earth “our way”. If they succeed, there will be no “our way” because although the intent might exist, there would be no diversity to define what “our way” is. Chances are, they would not have the power to control the situation because life rarely listens to our demands simply because they make sense only to us and we haven’t thought them through. Do they stop the custom of chanting hatred daily? Old habits die hard. So they bleed across the planet and the more distant they move from what was originally Iran, the freer they are with their ideas until one day, the big game starts all over and once again the naysayers are wishing the dissenters into the cornfield ala Twilight Zone’s Billy.
I’ve seen cosmic humor. I get nervous because I know that with enough rope we could easily hang ourselves and I can never really decide if seeing a million suns at midnight is someone’s wish and they can wish better than I can. Such is life … always keeps us guessing, I guess …