I, Nostradamus, sage, scholar, clairvoyant, renowned for a magical ability to predict everything, up to, but not including, six furlongs, see many things, though dimly and fleetingly, as through a glass darkly. I see the Middle East shimmering, as the summer heat shimmers on the horizon. I see the sub-continent fracturing along religious and ethnic lines. In short, things don’t look so hot right now.

Pakis crumble dust to dust

Taliban a sudden gust

Pakis fearing O’s rebukes

Give Taliban just half their nukes

In Middle East the fear grows long

Shadows cloud the growing strong

Persians smile say Jews bye bye

But not before the 15s fly

Afghan warlords cannot read

But they are of their fathers’ seed

In their hills they sit and wait

To see who’s next to tempt the fate