Turn it to stone, with eyes of a Gorgon

In shameful hanging, an abysmal black.

Like one there’s many; for many only one

An objective defined; suffering undone.

Forsake its living, ignore its words

Remove civility; its existence – mute.

He becomes it and it becomes nothing

Its lesson learned; evolution comes.

Turn it to dust, with time or fire

Put up a stone, a picture – a tale.

Never forget it, its words and actions

But never – ever – let it happen again.




We are rebels by nature. From birth we resist gravity. Even the simple act of standing up is an act of defiance against the overwhelming centrifugal force pulling us down. And this simple act defines our existence – against all odds, where droplets and oceans coexist, with individual identities.

Indivisible from the collective, yet standing alone.