War is never the solution

Borders are lines drawn in dust, but the wails of war ride the wind— no map can contain a scream. War does not choose a side; it is a fire that devours both hearth and forest. One body may bleed, but the other's soul turns to ash. From far behind velvet curtains and polished screens, war looks like a chessboard— moves, strategy, gain. But at the front, it is the breaking of mothers, the hollowing of eyes, the earth drinking youth like a thirsty beast. To desire war is to kiss the mouth of a storm and expect calm. It is to strike a match and pray for shade. To crave war is to summon violence, and violence has never cradled peace. Violence is never the solution— it is the echo of failure, the shatter of reason, the road that leads nowhere but ruin.