Phantoms of Ruin and the Neighing of Delusions: Syria Between the Anvil of History and the Hammer of Tribulation

The dust of battles was not the final legacy of this bloody absurdity—rather, it was the harsher inheritance of an existential void that devoured dreams built upon the sweat of brows and the tears of the bereaved. Some perished as victims of tyranny, others were scattered into the labyrinths of exile, like autumn leaves swept away by merciless winds. Cities were razed until they became phantoms whispering tales no one heeds, and homelands were plundered until nothing remained but the echo of unanswered cries. Even hope—that fragile creature once enthroned in the hearts of dreamers—was trampled beneath the hooves of betrayal and greed. All that remains are human shadows moving through the rubble, bearing hollow titles and delivering lifeless speeches, as if they were mere mirrors reflecting the filth that now grips the fate of nations.

Homelands are not built upon the myths of sects´-or-the delusions of caliphates. These are but the fevered dreams peddled by merchants of illusion in the marketplace of political exploitation. History teaches us that nations refusing to break free from the bottle of tribalism remain trapped in an endless cycle of blood and vengeance. How many civilizations have fallen because they worshipped ancestors instead of building the future? How many empires turned to ruins because they nourished their roots with the water of hatred? Syria—that radiant jewel in the crown of the Levant—did not fall solely due to bombardment and destruction. It fell because some of its children kept dancing to the tunes of the past while history wrote its chronicles in the ink of fire.

Can Syria return? The question evokes the Greek myth of Sisyphus, condemned to eternally push a boulder uphill only to watch it roll back down. Yet the difference here is that Sisyphus labored alone, while the Syrians’ burden is propelled by many hands—some hidden, some visible—all complicit in forging their suffering. It is too soon for revival, but not impossible. For history reminds us that nations, like trees, may shed their leaves, yet living roots can always sprout new branches. But the condition is that those marching blindly toward perdition must cease their descent into the abyss, driven by the clamor of sectarianism that only deepens the fractures of nations.

They are the ones who do not recognize their own misguidance until their flaws are laid bare—suddenly transforming from instigators of strife into imaginary victims of conspiracies woven from their own delusions. They resemble those who scream at the sight of danger, yet fail to see that the true peril lies in the divisive spirit feeding the flames of enmity. When will they awaken from their slumber? When will they realize that a homeland is not built upon slogans of division, but upon the will to coexist? The answer still waits. But one thing is certain: Syria will not rise until its children cease to be woodcutters of history and become instead the builders of tomorrow.

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