The Duality of Man

And when your Lord said to the angels:_“I shall place mankind, generations after generations, upon the earth,”_The angels said:_“Will You place therein those who will create mischief and shed blood, while we glorify You with praise and thanks?”_Allah said:_“I know that which you do not.”__-Qur'an 2:30_<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/images_-_2026-03-03T223319.375.jpeg"/>Humanity.Mankind.Homo sapiens.Sons and daughters of Adam and Eve.Mischief dances in the veins of this speciesSo crystal that even the blind can seeThat evil festers with easeIn the hearts and minds of beingsQuite alike to you and me.We are diseased. Evil.Mischief.Vice.That is the color of our skin—Not white, not black, not brown.Are we always so unsightly? Tell me—why? What remorseless machinations,What demons slumber in the hearts and mindsThat conjure such disastrous manifestations?No color of cruelty is without representation on this earthly canvas.Each vice is given its due.No depth of depravity is too far-fetched,No travesty beyond man’s indulgence.What a calamity we have brewed.<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/images_-_2026-03-03T223309.031.jpeg"/>I open my eyes to look.Look.There is blood everywhere.Misery sings a dreary tune.Oh wonderful—there’s a dead man over there.Not an hour passesWithout men directing the demise of other men.A slash, a bash, a smash.A cut, a bruise, a gash.A shot fired—sometimes several.Fatal wounds leakBarrels spew senseless smoke,Names become history.<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/images_-_2026-03-03T223032.961.jpeg"/>Souls sublimateNameless corpses lingerSuch fragility.Such frailty.Such mortality.Man drags man by hair and shacklesLeading each other to the grim reaper’s doorstep. “Not again,” the Grim Reaper sighs,slapping his weary face.“I’ve claimed more than enough souls for today. Come back tomorrow.”Yet a hundred more soulsHe will have no choice but to claimBefore the end of the day. "Why?" the Grim Reaper wonders.There are those who die without protest,Their span of life seeing their full course.There are those whose journeys are shortenedBy disease,By accident—No malice,No foul play. "But why?"He strokes his cleft chin with calloused fingers."Why do men find the need to bring others like them to my door?"He has bags beneath his eyes.He looks around for answers.The answers flood in. “Diversity,” says one group.It is always us versus them.Warfare—The dealing of death is quite the bloody affair.Any infinitesimal speck of difference, effectively exploited.Reasons are fabricated to make borders appear reasonable—Like divine commandment.Country against country.Borders.Gang against gang.Borders.Ideology against ideology.Borders.Person against a disagreeing person.Walls.To be different is to create enemies.But even the most identical twins are never entirely alike.Diversity is inevitable.<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/images_-_2026-03-03T223122.708.jpeg"/>“Survival,” another group answers.The Grim Reaper lends them an attentive ear.“Resources.The fear of destitution and hunger for abundance.We want what they have.Whoever has it will survive.”Forgetting that nature never outlawed sharing. We rob.We steal.We pillage.The traces taint the streets of every town and village,Painting the earth red with bloody greed.<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/https___archive-images.prod.global.a201836.reutersmedia.net_2022_08_24_2022-08-24T155201Z_19679_MRPRC21HT9D7CX5_RTRMADP_0_UKRAINE-CRISIS-BORODYANKA.jpeg"/> The Grim Reaper appears dazed.He inquires no further,He feels the reasons for gifting of death It overwhelms himIt is without countMathematically unbounded—Rising and rising evermore,Nearing infinity. So he picks up his scythe,Garbs himself in his cloak,And sets offFor a busy day of work. _Where the Angels justified?_

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