Threshold

Entry 7 – Justice

Since the dawn of time,

blood has whispered its story,

drop after drop,

until we stopped counting,

until the cup overflowed,

tainting the dust of the earth

with a haunting red,

until its weight felt ordinary.

We forgot what it meant to lose a life,

to mourn innocence,

to tremble at the sound of grief.

But the laments of the tender-hearted,

though silenced by rust over centuries,

still echoes through ages,

fiercely fighting for what should have been – Justice.

There is always a first,

a single, trembling breath

before the pattern takes shape,

before the world learned

to answer sorrow with violence,

before, the earth was drowned

in the red memory of the withered,

innocent citizens, family, friends,

all rooted in the deep pain of betrayal.

There was Abel...

The first innocent,

who knew not of tribunals or tongues.

He only knew the morning,

the hope of a simple day,

and the trust that his kin was kind.

But betrayal,

born of jealousy and envy,

from one who should have been a shield,

dawned his doom.

Pure blood poured cruelly

upon the weary earth,

who cried out to

the roots of justice

and recoiled at such

abominable act.

His was the first drop,

falling into an ocean that has

only drowned in countless more innocent,

pleading, unavenged blood.

But Justice was there at the very beginning,

serving restless retribution,

turning the universe against its offspring,

to mark him an outcast.

And so it will be till the end.

Not always in the courts of law,

where justice has been perverted

instead of preserved,

where the rights of humanity

lie buried beneath power struggles

and selfish gain.

Choosing control over compassion,

power over peace,

and feed the earth with the cries of humanity

instead of their songs of jubilation.

Equality is thrown off the table,

Fairness given a red card,

Shame worn like a crown,

Wickedness like a robe,

held tight with a golden belt,

and the cries of victims tracing cruel patterns across it,

turning pain into the embroidery of their pride.

But, even in the marrow of unfair silence,

Justice still lingers.

Waiting.

Until it’s time to strike.. tenfold.

And when that day comes,

the world will remember

what it chose to forget –

that every drop of innocent blood

was a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

Justice never dies:

it only waits for the silence to end.

It's the truth in action and the sum of all moral duty.

.

* * * * * * *

Hiya great minds!

Reporting tonight's chaos!

Someone just discovered they've got the rhythm of a malfunctioning ceiling fan!

I wanted to wind off after a super irksome day – you know, just move a little, feel a little, and dance away the stress with The One (instrumental) by Jorja Smith playing serenely in the background.

Except nothing about it was soft!

My body, my stiff uncoordinated self, decided to betray me.

I barely moved in sync with the flawless dancer I was copying on t****k – not even the basic rhythm agreed with me.

But still, there I was, trying so hard, like someone possessed by determination but powered by zero flexibility.

Wondering how I managed to be both confident and confused at the same time.

Three minutes later I’m slumped heavily on the

bed, like I just finished a dance battle with gravity and lost miserably.

The lighting from my zoom torch? Horrible.

My hair? Acting like it had its own choreography.

The background? A total crime scene!

And as if the universe wasn’t done, my neighbor, who hosted an event today, decided to keep the party going with loud music – till now!!!

I guess his guests are immortals because they’ve been “vibing” since morning.

Every scenario of this just equated to absurdity but I did save the video though, because I think it deserves an award for “Best Comedy in Real Life.”

Sometimes you just have to laugh at the mess.

Don’t mimick things you can’t do oo !

Now I find fun in laughing at the nonsense.

But, at least the spirit was there.

If chaos had a dance floor,

I’d still be front row!