a reply to sasa
Time. Time heals. Time erases. Time forgets. Time remembers.
In 1967 we suffered humiliation. We were defeated. We lost. Ever since we've licked our wounds, we've cried our condition, our heart broke from our self-pity. We've sulked in the darkness, lived in our glorious illusions. Glorious illusions... glorious victories only exist in the loser's vocabulary. We've lost. We've lost our most important thing. Our Soul. We've surrendered it unconditionally.
I write late because I forgot the anniversary. This anniversary, in fact, doesn't mean a thing to myself. Maybe because, although a stranger to my mind, far away from my time line, I haven't surrendered. So why commemorate something that didn't happen yet?
I was born two decades after 1967. I was born into the Lebanese Civil War. I was born into the Intifada. I was born into the Gulf Wars. I know nothing of what happened back in 1967. I only know the two sides of the propaganda. And I know it doesn't mean anything to myself because I haven't surrendered yet. I didn't surrender my soul to sulking, regretting, fatalism and nihilism. I haven't lost faith in secularism and nationalism. I haven't fallen for the sweet illusions of faith' Ever After Rewards. There is no yesterday and no tomorrow where I live. There is only NOW. And NOW I haven't surrendered.
Yes we should mourn on this day. We should mourn not for our brave dead, our heroes, our land. We should mourn for our Soul that we've lost without a battle, that we've surrendered. Until we wake and claim it back, our Soul, our Identity, our Ideal, until then we deserve none less. Until then we shall mourn.
Time. Time heals. Time erases. Time forgets. Time remembers.
In 1967 we suffered humiliation. We were defeated. We lost. Ever since we've licked our wounds, we've cried our condition, our heart broke from our self-pity. We've sulked in the darkness, lived in our glorious illusions. Glorious illusions... glorious victories only exist in the loser's vocabulary. We've lost. We've lost our most important thing. Our Soul. We've surrendered it unconditionally.
I write late because I forgot the anniversary. This anniversary, in fact, doesn't mean a thing to myself. Maybe because, although a stranger to my mind, far away from my time line, I haven't surrendered. So why commemorate something that didn't happen yet?
I was born two decades after 1967. I was born into the Lebanese Civil War. I was born into the Intifada. I was born into the Gulf Wars. I know nothing of what happened back in 1967. I only know the two sides of the propaganda. And I know it doesn't mean anything to myself because I haven't surrendered yet. I didn't surrender my soul to sulking, regretting, fatalism and nihilism. I haven't lost faith in secularism and nationalism. I haven't fallen for the sweet illusions of faith' Ever After Rewards. There is no yesterday and no tomorrow where I live. There is only NOW. And NOW I haven't surrendered.
Yes we should mourn on this day. We should mourn not for our brave dead, our heroes, our land. We should mourn for our Soul that we've lost without a battle, that we've surrendered. Until we wake and claim it back, our Soul, our Identity, our Ideal, until then we deserve none less. Until then we shall mourn.
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