Ancient wars, young no more. Dust covers the machine guns, which stare with hollow eyes out of the broken windows. Broken walls and roofs, sad with decay and filth, line streets paved with shards of glass and discarded fifths. The war is young no more, the ammunition is gone, and the combattants use their guns as sticks. Broken dreams, generals defeated by their own schemes, Would be Napoleons, whose windbags have collapsed. Charismatic lunatics, whose mutual accusations of hypocrisy and evil are real; the only trouble is, to whom do they apply? My enemy is as exhausted as I. I hear the holy warriors make their cry! Slander! Dishonesty! Evil! They meet each other in the same hell. Empty the hell! This Daimoku is too powerful for that! Leave the faithless monsters behind, purge them from your hearts! let them leave the recesses of our minds with one great slogan: "You too will become a Buddha!"
Chris