You were mown down by a bomb.
How not to be sad when a man of truth is murdered?
In a world filled with perversion and business and conflicts of powers,there is no room for the light bearers.
They disturb the order – or, better, the disorder – of the world:
Socrate and Gandhi died while fighting against the oscurantism, didn’t they?
Son of a rich and unknown culture, You were part of that circle
of men devoting their actions and thoughts to humanity, though incurring in the hostility of strong powers.
Poet in your soul, forced to dress up like a military chief
in order to fight agains the Red Army that was destroying your people, depriving them of their freedom.
By yourself, fighting against that war machine so strong and so feared by the West during the cold war.
By yourself, You were the first to shake the Berlin wall,
which cut the world in two and would have actually fallen down after the last Russian soldier departure.
Still by yourself, between the Soviet empire – at its twilight and defeated by its own mistakes –and the West – sold to its own business,you attempted to gain peace and independence for your people.
How many times did you launch your appeals?
How many times only your words echo answered on the Panjshir mountains?
Life is beautiful, my friend. I do believe it.
Or maybe, killing a man, destroying his body, tearing his flesh, can’t erase his soul.
You were a light on the difficult way to peace.
When I see the lantern of other light bearers going on the way you have shown, I do firmly believe that life is beautiful.
I remind an old Persian proverb You told one day:
All the darkness of the world can’t smother the flame of a single little lantern.