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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Uranium-235— it was in Democratic Republic of the Congo the fire of the earth was taken. Taken by powerful hands. And from that fire, the Manhattan Project was born. Some men study creation. Others— study destruction. What kind of mind awakens each morning to design weapons for the death of nations? They call Africa weak. Yet from Africa came the mineral that changed the world forever. From the soil of Congo rose the shadow of the atomic age. On August 6, 1945— Atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki turned Hiroshima into fire and silence. Innocent souls vanished beneath light brighter than the sun. And Nagasaki also fell— another wound written in ash. From Plutonium-239, from uranium, from human ambition without mercy. The people of Japan speak of forgiveness. But grief does not disappear. Some pain survives generations. It sleeps quietly inside the heart. And history— never truly forgets. America— you used the atomic bomb against humanity, yet today you warn others against possessing it. Power speaks one language for itself, and another for the rest of the world. And the world notices. Tell me— who fears peace more? The nation that already holds the fire of destruction? Or the nation seeking power because others possess it? This is the tragedy of mankind. Those who build weapons of annihilation speak endlessly of security. While the dead remain silent beneath the ruins. And Congo— your earth changed history, yet your people still suffer upon the same soil.
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