Taharat Muhammad Jabir

everything you thought had meaning. Every hope, dream or moment of happiness. None of it matters As you lie bleeding out on the battlefield. None of it changes. What a speeding rock does to our body. We all die. Does that mean our lives are meaningless? Does that mean that there was no point in being born? Would you say that of our slain comrades? What about their lives? Were they meaningless? They were not. Their memory serves an example to us all the greatest, the anguished father. Their lives have meaning because we the living refused to forget them. And as we ride to certain death, we trust our successors to do the same for us. Because my soldiers do not buckle our yield. When faced with a gorilla to be of this world, my soldiers pushed forward. My soldiers scream out. My soldiers rage.

Dhaka, Bangladesh