The brutalized corpses are piling up in thousands. The anguish and anger is seething like molten lava from a quietly frothing volcano.
And the silence of the graveyard is mistaken for cowardice. So the cowardly herdsmen keep on hacking with reckless abandon. And our President is playing Emperor Nero with the lute while Rome was burning. The auguries are dark
The cumulous clouds are pregnant and heavy. Let those who can read the omens give wise counsel before darkness closes in.