The world is preparing for another storm. You can sense it — in the tone of leaders, in the headlines, in the border skirmishes, and in the rising nationalism masked as patriotism. It’s as if humanity, tired of its own unresolved restlessness, is looking outward for a battlefield to project its inner discontent.
But let us pause — not as citizens of any nation, not as believers of any faith, not as followers of any ideology — but simply as human beings.
Before the world goes to war again, can we sit in silence for just one evening? Can we turn off the noise, the news, the narratives, and just face our own soul?
Can we question the ancient anger passed down to us, the inherited divisions we never examined?
Before we march again into another cycle of destruction, can we ask ourselves —Who benefits from this war? Who suffers? And who remains silent?
Because if we don’t face these questions now, they will come back in the screams of the innocent, in the eyes of orphaned children, in the silence of bombed cities.
This is not a political post. This is a human cry. Let us sit with our discomfort. Let us hold space for reflection. Let us reclaim the lost art of listening — to ourselves, to the other, to the Earth.
May be the world doesn’t need another opinion. Maybe it needs a moment of true stillness —from where a different future can arise.
