Inside the Mind of a Dangerous Man

Its been so may years since two thousand one

When the mighty nation was shaken and survivors were none

It was a sight that shocked many across the globe

When a plane crashed into the towers sounding the drums

I was young then, with an impressionable mind

Never had I seen anything which could make my conscious grind

I wondered what motivated men to take up the cause

I wondered what were they thinking, what was on their mind

Inside the minds of dangerous men, who have destined to die

Men who are telling the truth to themselves, and detest lies

No matter what their causes were, their means were unjust

No matter what they wanted to achieve, they just created mistrust

In the final moments of life, what takes them to take the last leap?

Does the fear of death, illness and misery no longer make them weep?

I salute the minds of those who reach such an enlightened state

Seldom are such men seen in ordinary days that control their fate

Nor that I support their cause or means at all

I still continue to hate them by all means for making the mighty tower fall

I would still salute their enlightened state which is so very difficult to gain

Where one feels no difference, no misery and no pain

I often think why only dangerous men attain such minds so easily

Why are many millions always tangled in life’s turmoil which is so measly?

The day, when many more good men can go to such an extent

To do something great, to achieve for which they are meant

That day would be the one when we may never need superheroes again

When there would be no existence of misery, deprivation or pain

Its only certain death that takes men to such a state now

When nothing really matters for a man before he takes the final bow

I still wish well for the thousands that left us that fateful day

I am on my knees and “May you rest in peace” is what I pray

But I still feel that the power of the mind is what makes us fight

Else no one would have resisted the dangerous men in that fourth flight

Today is September 11, the fateful day when many perished in one of the biggest attacks on mankind. When the attack happened, I often felt that what motivates a hijacker or a terrorist to do such an act. Is certain death a motivator? How do people feel just a moment before they are going to die?

I certainly abhor such acts but still it certainly shows the power of the human mind to be the most powerful force on earth. This poem though a bit abstract, is homage to those who died that day and moreover an even bigger tribute to those in the fourth flight (which crashed in the open fields) who resisted such dangerous men to save many others on the ground.