Dormant Seeds

The kamikaze martyr steels his nerves To seal the sacred mission of his life. He loves the all-important cause he serves, Yet dreams about his mother and his wife. Though long endured, the loving pain they’ll feel Will be surpassed by pride and joy sublime. It must be so, he vows and flames his zeal; To question now would be a faithless crime. Then dead ahead, a hundred panicked souls— He sees them not, nor hears their bullets fly. He thinks of nothing now, but just controls His missile’s course: the enemy must die! What madness makes him so naively blind? Its seeds lie still, within each seeing mind.