Afghanistan

We are all secure,.
In our sinecures,
And cosseted lifestyles,

We cannot even hope,
To understand,
The desperation,

Of a life uprooted,
By a change of circumstance,

A country taken over,
By forces of chaos,
Thrown back to mediaeval times,

Murder, pillage, rape and loot,
Divine right of warlords,
Going back to ancient times,

We are lucky to have lived,
In our little sinecures,

Counting our wealth and indulging,
In our little pastimes,

We cannot even hope to understand,
How worlds can get uprooted,
By forces beyond our control,

And how the little things we take,
For granted,
Now are so important,

The world was never a safe place,
It is all an illusion,

We spun ourselves into our cocoons,
And fed our delusions,

It's when the fabric tears apart,
That the threads start unraveling,

The tapestry of which we are a part,
Is our place, our time, our good fortune!