Discussion On the Eternal Return of Hatred

[TheVanishingPoint]

In a land believed to be promised — but which, in truth, has promised nothing but blood — man does not fight to live, but to die with more reason than the other. There is no border not drawn with the barbed wire of pain, no homeland that does not rise upon an invisible ossuary.

Each people claims the right to its own abyss, and those who cry out "justice" often seek nothing more than a more elegant revenge. The occupied dreams of liberation, the liberator becomes the executioner, and yesterday's victim grips the baton of the jailer with the trembling hand of the righteous wounded. But no justice lasts longer than a dawn under the bombs.

They kill each other for a god who has been silent for millennia, and die for an identity sewn with the thread of uprooted childhood. Mothers give birth to children destined for martyrdom or missiles. Schools teach the grammar of hatred, for love, in certain places, is a luxury reserved for the dead.

Every treaty is a truce between two hells, every peace a pause before more mourning. Diplomats shake hands over papers that reek of burned flesh, while children draw skies without sun, armed only with stones against eternity.

The world watches, weeps on cue, tweets its outrage, then changes the channel. For the suffering of others is always fiction when it does not touch us.

And deep down, beneath all the flags and screams, remains only a mute question: what is the meaning of all this?
If an answer exists, it lies buried under centuries of sand and blood, in a nameless grave the world still dares to call "the future.


إسرائيل:
إيران:
فلسطين:
المشهد العالمي:
الصراع والمصير:
صالون الغرب:
الاستسلام والرعب:


كل شيء ساكن.
فقط أنفاس المأساة تُسمع.
لا كلمات... فقط رموز لزمنٍ يتفتت.