For Kabul

Yellow laleh fall
in shreds, our full
wheat pales to wreath;
now only white laleh
line our halls
of prayers, will you
hear our people cry?

For Manchester

Our red roses
lay down to rest;
three rivers aflow
with tears; my men and
women, my children,
we gather in grief but
our bees shall fly again.

Pleasure of Knowledge

“We have no knowledge, that is, no general principles drawn from the contemplation of particular facts, but what has been built up by pleasure and exists in us by pleasure alone…the knowledge both of the poet and the man of science is pleasure…poetry is the first and last of all knowledge – it is as immortal as the heart of man.” – Lyrical Ballads by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth

It is valuable to born again this pleasure – of accumulation and making sense of knowledge. This self-motivated endeavour enriches one’s soul as well as mind, and makes one a more wholesome being. Also, to derive by instinct an understanding of the world; to uncover truths between lines of poetry; is mysterious and exciting. It gives one the opportunity to be an explorer in this set world, and to discover for himself his own philosophy.