The Thinking Poet - II. I Wandered Through Fog

II. I Wandered Through Fog

I wandered through fog today, thick-headed, 
Drooping, an unwatered plant,
Weary from having been shaken awake
By a fictitious riot that culminated
In a vicious murder by a rabid crowd,
Egged on by a soulless leader,
Also fictional, as far as I know,
Invented over one hundred fifty years ago,
But all too real, all too much like
Current rabid crowds, real ones,
Egged on to recent vicious murders, actual ones,
By soulless leaders, one in particular.
The resemblance was striking
Between these events and their perpetrators,
Unrelated by ideologies,
But identical in their darkness,
Historical twins, along with their hideous brethren
From uncountable other ages and places.
Their demon howl echoes down the centuries, 
The bloody legacy of a species
That dreams of heaven
With both feet planted in hell.

1.Think of a time when you felt rage about some wrong in the world. 
2.If you have not felt rage about the wrongs of others, what has kept you from feeling that?
3.What, if anything, did you do in response to the wrong? If you didn’t do anything, what could you do?

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