The Passion That Bleeds by Femi Fani-Kayode
Until you hear the Scotsman play the bagpipes in the early morning mist of the Scottish highlands, you have heard nothing. Until you hear the Irish maiden sing ''O Danny Boy'' on the lush green fields of the Emerald Isle, you know nothing.
Until you hear the Welshman sing ''Men of Harlech'' in the beautiful valleys of Pontypool and Pontyprid, you have heard nothing. Until you see the English rose blossom and bloom in early spring and you hear the British Grenadiers sing ''God Save The Queen'', you have seen nothing. Until you see the ''Charge of the Light Brigade'' and witness the courage of ''the famous 600'', you know nothing.
Until you see the Zulu warrior dance his battle dance on the hills of Isandlwana and Rorke's Drift, you know nothing. Until you hear the Ashanti and the Yoruba sing songs of praise to the Living God, you have heard nothing. Until you see the Frenchman sing ''La Marseillaise'' and ''Je Ne Regrette Rien'', you know nothing.
Until you see brave men fight, suffer and die for a noble and just cause, you know nothing. Until you hear the cries, see the tears, read the words and feel the pain of a wounded, tormented and broken soul, you have seen nothing. Until you feel the passion of the wounded Messiah on the cross at Calvary, you know nothing.
All these unseen things inspire. They stir the spirit and move the soul. They breath and bleed passion. They ARE passion itself. And passion is the essence of life. It is the food of the compassionate and the sensitive spirit. It is the fuel of noble and courageous souls. It is the stuff of which gods and immortals are made. It is our passport to posterity....our key to future glory.