Hate Breeds Hate

Hate breeds hate—
a serpent devouring its own tail,
a fire feeding on the wind,
an endless echo in the hollow chambers of the heart.

It is a poison that seeps into the soil of our souls,
rooting itself deep,
twisting and choking the tender shoots of compassion,
until all that remains is barren ground.

The satanic forces laugh,
their delight etched in the scars of the world,
as we, the wounded,
wound in return.

They thrive on our division,
on the cracks we carve into the earth between us,
on the walls we build with our fear and pride.
They whisper lies into our ears,
telling us that we are different,
that we are enemies,
that we must fight to survive.

But real courage—
ah, real courage is not the sword,
not the clenched fist,
not the roar of vengeance.

It is the quiet breath of love
that whispers to the enemy,
You are my brother.
You are my sister.
We are one.

It is the hand that reaches out
when every instinct screams to pull away.
It is the voice that speaks forgiveness
when the heart cries out for justice.
It is the choice to see the divine
in the eyes of the one who has wronged 
How long will you turn away?
How long will you let the chains of history
bind you to the same old story?

Break them.
Break them with hands trembling,
but break them still.
Reach out.
Embrace.
Clasp each other in arms that have known too much war
and not enough peace.

Kiss each other on both cheeks,
a sacred ritual of belonging.
Say, Forever, we are family.
Forever, we are one.

For if we do not,
the satanic forces will win.
And yes, there will be peace—
the peace of a graveyard planet,
the silence of a world that chose hate
over love,
division over unity,
death over life.

But it does not have to be this way.
We can choose differently.
We can be the ones
who break the cycle,
who plant seeds of love
in the cracked earth of this world.

And from those seeds,
let a garden grow—
a garden where every flower,
every tree,
every blade of grass
whispers the same truth:
Hate ends here.
Love begins.

Let the roots of this garden run deep,
binding us together in a tapestry of hope.
Let its branches stretch wide,
sheltering the weary and the broken.
Let its fruits nourish the hungry,
not just with food,
but with the sweetness of reconciliation.

For love is not weak.
It is the strongest force in the universe,
stronger than hate,
stronger than fear,
stronger than death itself.

It is the light that pierces the darkest night,
the song that rises above the noise of war,
the thread that weaves us all into one sacred story.

So let us choose love.
Let us choose it again and again,
even when it is hard,
even when it costs us everything.
For in the end,
it is the only thing that will save us.

MyKoul