Northern juice dripping blood and milk…grabbed, and harnessed by the children of the new moon whose strength is in the virtual space housed in the west wave of thoughts, new and webbed by the strength of the borderless world.
Up north, the new, unborn when the old was young and raged from the bottom to prominence, took centre stage with tiny gadgets of global import, big enough to mobilize the world to a war not fought for fun but for freedom from fear and the fear of a future threatened by a mosaic of uncertainty and disconnect from the realities of an era destined to thrive by peace and global oneness.
On the Nile, no guns and tanks. Bullets came from Masked cowards whose hearts beat of shame and soul-less self-pity. More words were shot to displace the head that heeds not to the signal of time and history.