(Who drew the borders on the earth...?)

(Who split the oceans from the sky...?)

(It wasn't mountains marking birth,)

(No wind assigned where we should lie.)

(The sun demanded no word "mine",)

(The rivers knew no line or wall.)

(But in the human grew a vine —)

(The fear of losing, losing all.)

(Borders — not on maps, but in us,)

(Between "me" and "you," between faith and the falling.)

(We built them in a bitter dust —)

(And we will break what we've been building.)

(The earth is no one's — it's alive, it's one.)

(The truth is in connection, not division.)

(Borders run inside everyone,)

(And the path — is waking, is vision.)

(When nomads drove the first stake deep)

(And whispered to the ground: "Now here's my home,")

(Empires marched through blood and rust,)

(With swords they carved the fate of lands.)

(Holy books taught love and trust —)

(But man kept building walls with hands.)

(From the mountain's height no line is seen,)

(The planet breathes without a single trace.)

(History is not a list of what has been...)

(But finding the ones we were before space.)

(Borders — not on maps, but in us,)

(We are the walls and we are the door.)

(And if that hour comes, we will choose to trust,)

(We'll choose the meeting, not the war.)

(The earth is not property — it's a gift.)

(And life is not a war for possession.)

(We came not to divide or drift,)

(But to become its continuation, its confession.)