This poem is an exposition of an ideology that is often accepted as an embodiment of “universal brotherhood” and “peace,” but if you dig deep into the history, you would find that most exponents of this ideology considered themselves warriors of Jihad, and the primary role it has played in history is to serve as a pretty mask for extremism, terrorism, and Jihad.
Zehady, the wolf, the wicked wolf,
Had a blood-thirst but no dare.
He could kill with deceit the hapless ones,
But cringed, if they gave a glare.
It was a tough tough life in a tough tough world,
“This is just not fair,
I was promised the moon when I was born a wolf,
Now nobody seems to care.
With so much toil, I get my food
I live in such hardship.
They’d said I was born to rule the world
And all that I get is a blip?”
He sought the aid of Zoupy, the fox,
His old, wise, mystic friend.
“You’re the only one who can save my life,
From an almost certain end.”
Zoupy was a kind and loving soul,
Ever lost in the cosmic dance.
He could twirl around on one hind leg,
In a state that he called trance.
He heard his friend, and empathized,
“You need to stop being wild.
With not a trace of martial skill,
You couldn’t even knock a child.
Give up this macho act and hear,
Love is the sublime art.
It melts all the distances,
Fuses a heart to heart.
Your ruthlessness is scaring them,
You need to stop being such a jack.
Just mellow down and love them dear,
And they will love you back.
But it is not in your chromosomes,
To charm or lure or woo,
So let me go and work my spell,
And walk your food to you.”
Off went Zoupy to distant lands,
As Zehady got back to whine.
There was little around him that he could munch,
Nothing to sup or dine.
With Zoupy gone for weeks and months,
Though his days all felt so yuck,
He trusted, in his heart of hearts,
His friend and God and luck!
He was awe-struck, agape, amazed,
What he saw that one fine dawn.
He rubbed his eyes, rubbed them again,
With jaws bigger than his yawn.
Such tender, fluffy, woolly sheep,
“O, such a pleasure they’d be to kill!!!”
Led by Zoupy, in tens and scores,
Scurrying to the den uphill.
Zehady bowed down to Zoupy’s feet,
And said – “You are just so good.
Which spell did you cast on them,
That now walks to me, my food?”
Zoupy bowed, and said, “Look sire,
Compassion’s got such a zeal,
If I didn’t love them with all my heart,
Whence would you find your meal?”