It is nothing to move mountains, to bend metal with bare palms, to teleport or lift a car or even fly. So what value do these petty superhuman powers hold when death breathes in every shadow? When children perish with empty bowls and hollow-eyed stares? Against the vast, grinding machinery of war, poverty, and hunger, such gifts or superhuman powers are a whisper lost in the screaming dark—a cruel joke, meaning little, if they mean anything at all.