The Great Border Folly: Canada's Dance with the Abyss

In the frozen lands of the North, where comfort and moral platitudes reign supreme, a peculiar drama unfolds that speaks volumes of our age's decadence. Canada, that bastion of self-proclaimed virtue, hath sent nineteen Afghan souls back to the very depths from which they fled, all while trumpeting its moral superiority from the mountaintops.

Behold how the mighty ones of the North dance their contradictory waltz! They who proclaim themselves champions of the downtrodden, yet send the desperate back into the maw of that which they claim to despise. Such is the nature of those who praise themselves for their virtue while practicing the art of convenient forgetfulness.

The Border Services Agency, that bureaucratic leviathan, speaks in riddles and whispers, hiding behind the veil of "privacy" and "confidentiality" - those sacred shields of the modern age. They declare these departures "voluntary," a word that rings hollow in the ears of those who understand the true nature of choice.

Behold Aidan Simardone, one of the legal shepherds, who speaks truth when he questions the nature of these "voluntary" departures. Yet even he, in his wisdom, remains bound by the chains of systematic thought that plague our age.

See how they slumber, these citizens of the North! They dream their dreams of righteousness while women and girls face erasure in the land of eternal darkness. They speak of "feminist foreign policy" while their actions whisper of compromise and convenience.

In their great halls of power, they have created a peculiar instrument called the "Temporary Suspension of Removals" - a mechanism that has persisted for nigh on three decades, yet bends like a reed in the wind when expedient. Such is the way of those who seek comfort above all else, who would rather create systems of false security than face the harsh winds of truth.

Arghavan Gerami, another voice crying out in the wilderness of bureaucracy, speaks of transparency while the machinery of state clouds all in mystery. See how they all dance around the truth, speaking in measured tones while the abyss grows ever wider!

O Canada, land of the eternal compromise! Thou who hast welcomed 54,000 souls while sending others back to darkness - what manner of mathematics determines the worth of human spirit in thy corridors of power?

And what of these "third countries" - these mysterious havens to which nearly 900 souls have been dispatched? The great machine speaks not of their fate, leaving them to wander in realms unknown, like spirits cast out from paradise.

The United Nations - that gathering of modern priests - sends forth its rapporteur Bennett to declare what any child could see: that women and girls face "pervasive gender persecution." Yet even this obvious truth becomes entangled in the web of political consideration and bureaucratic deliberation.

Mark well how they sleep, these citizens of comfort! They read of women banned from prayer, of girls denied knowledge, and they shake their heads in momentary sadness before returning to their slumber. Such is the way of those who have forgotten how to dream of heights!

Miller, the Minister of Immigration, stands at the crossroads of decision, yet chooses the path of non-decision, declaring "We will not speculate on future decisions." Such is the courage of our age - to decide not to decide, to act by not acting, to speak by remaining silent.

And so the great wheel turns, grinding souls in its mechanisms while the masses sleep soundly, assured of their own righteousness. They have created systems to justify their comfort, procedures to validate their inaction, and statistics to measure their virtue.

Let those with ears hear! The true measure of a society lies not in its systems of comfort, but in its willingness to face the harsh winds of truth. Yet here we stand, in the twilight of action, measuring our morality in numbers while souls hang in the balance.

Thus stands Canada at the precipice of choice - not between good and evil, for such simple distinctions are for children - but between the comfort of sleep and the pain of awakening. The question remains: will they continue their dance of contradictions, or will they at last open their eyes to see the abyss that yawns before them?