In the fading light of a distant horizon,
where shadowed hearts collide,
and echoes of anguish rise,
we stand, each side armed with stories,
each heart a fortress of fear and pain.

Handfuls of hate-filled radicals
wielding weapons of division
sacrifice old men etched with wisdom,
and mothers cradling the weight of sorrow,
and children — eyes wide with dreams,
now dimmed by the smoke of rubble.

The land, once a cradle of hope,
now a canvas of scars,
painted with the cries of those unheard,
the weight of a thousand broken promises,
and a hundred conversations left unspoken.

But amid the rubble and debris,
in the whispered pleas of those forgotten,
we find that shoring up sides —
building walls of disdain —
will one day carry less weight
than the silenced breath
of twenty thousand children,
whose laughter now dances
only in the shadow of what might have been.

Let the winds of understanding sweep over these lands,
let compassion stitch the wounds of history,
for in our shared humanity, we find the power
to dismantle the chains we’ve forged,
to rise as one,
to raise our voices against the night,
and to remember
every life is a light,
and together,
we must tend the flame.