Idea

Once...
I saw life extirpated off the face of the Earth.  
I saw it burn.  
In the flames I saw it scream like a dying animal,
frantically trying to find its way out.  
It's fur singing,
skin scorching
at a heat that's unbearable.  
Its desperation leaded to glazed over, wistful eyes.

War has had this land in a death grip
for as long as I can recall,
and the numbed cold fingers that grasp it
Will never let go
I saw it crumble in the bureacracy
of a dysfunctional socialistic society
...a communism gone to the dictators.  
No one remembers any...
and the few that do-forget.  

Forget everything...
and it becomes nothing.  
Forget the dead
...and there's nothing in heaven nor earth
that can bring back the lost faces and souls.  

Some say an idea can
never die, they are fools.

What is the use of an idea if no one is there to execute it?  
No one strong enough, no one smart enough.
No one brave enough.  
No one alive enough.

Is it still an idea?