Sometimes, a story simply starts writing itself. It is then up to the characters to rise up and steer it towards an end they desire.

There is a background to every drop of blood spilled and every life lost. Only, in some such cases history explains the outcome more overtly than in others.

Change the world, I know I won’t,Enthralling as always I hope it remains,A kaleidoscope of joy, sorrow and pain.But my only wish as I take this jaunt,Is for my words on you to impress upon,A smile, a tear or even an angry frown.

Even the most artistic of imaginings can sometimes seem callow in the face of truth. That which appears may not be and that which lies hidden may just be the stark, naked face of reality.