Spirit of sacrifice

Perhaps never in the history of humanity have peoples used the word ‘martyr’ as much as the Muslim world. A word linked to the cult of death, to the need to create icons and a mythology. A word linked to the need to proliferate in order to feed the mass graves with cannon fodder and human bombs. A word symbolic of a people who love suffering, who hate life, whose sole objective is to reach the Other World, where the honey flows, where the streams flow, disdaining all the good and all the riches of this world. A destructive spirit in total contradiction with the survival instinct of every living thing, animal or human. A spirit of supreme sacrifice in the hope of gaining a chimerical life that they could not or did not know how to have on this decidedly cursed earth.
A people deaf to the world outside its bubble, a people so blind as to turn every defeat into a victory. Victory for words that are there to restore a coat of arms. What image? The world cannot be fooled to this extent: the reality is unfortunately different. The first task after the debacle, the vital emergency, is not to care for the wounded or feed the children, but to try to rearm ourselves so that we can start the infernal cycle all over again, attracted by misfortune as a fly is attracted by pork.
A people who wallow in their own pain, in the pain of mothers who, as in Gaza, between two regenerative births in a breeding ground whose destiny is butchery, sometimes cry out in despair at having lost their dearest one, their beloved Martyr, sometimes sing the praises of a hypothetical God who waits, unmoved by the horror endured by His Creation, for the arrival of His earthly Combatants, His shredded Chuhadas, His tattered Mujahids. A people who cry out their hatred and rage by burning flags, the only objective within their reach.
Who can guarantee that, if they had the means, this people would not vitrify the planet, without scruples or remorse? So it’s all right to indulge in misery, suffering, fear and death?
It’s a sad state of affairs when the school curriculum is hatred of others. It is bound to prepare a gloomy future for itself. A sad humanity whose only dreams are nightmares, whose only hope is the afterlife.
You think my words are too harsh? But words have never killed anyone. For that, there are enough madmen of all stripes!
Tahar