The Dance of Masks on the Shifting Sands of the East

In the theater of fate, where nations dance on the ropes of interests and wills collide, illusions are born to kill the truth. The curtain has fallen on the era of the two poles, only to give rise to a new enemy—an imaginary devil that keeps the war machine turning, with fear as its master. "Radical Islam" became the mask that the world wore to justify its invasions, igniting fires in our lands, as Afghanistan and Iraq burned with flames that their hands did not light.

And now, Syria, the land of civilizations, stands on the edge of an abyss, torn between the dream of salvation and the nightmare of reality. The tyrant has fallen, but his shadow remains heavier than his body. Then came those who wore the mantle of religion to rule in the name of heaven, while committing acts on earth that displease both the earth and the sky. The shackles were replaced by harsher chains, and the jailer by a more tyrannical one. Thus, the freedom that the revolutionaries called for became a deferred dream, and the homeland became an open wound, bleeding blood and dignity.

Federalism is not merely a political choice-;- it is the last lifeline for a ship on the verge of sinking. It is a bitter acknowledgment that the wounds of the past are too deep to be healed by empty promises, and that the diversity, which once was a source of strength, has now become an excuse for division. Either we accept coexistence in one house with multiple rooms, respecting each individual s privacy,´-or-the house will collapse on everyone s heads, turning into rubble upon which the flags of sects and races will flutter.

Turkey, which dreamed of the return of the empire’s glory over Syrian lands, will find that the fire it lit in its neighbor s house will inevitably spread to scorch its own garment. Playing with the fates of nations is playing with fire, and he who sows the wind in someone else s land will only reap a storm in his own. The future of the region is being drawn today by the pens of the great powers, and those who lack a pen to participate in the writing will become just a line on a painful page of history.

Salvation does not come from the outside-;- it emanates from within. It begins when we love each other, when we realize that our true enemy is not one who differs from us in religion´-or-race, but one who steals our humanity and plants hatred in our hearts. Will we recognize the truth before it s too late,´-or-will we continue to dance the dance of masks on the shifting sands of our East until the sand swallows us, and the masks fade away?

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