By Saad Al Halabi

Time's Rebellion

Time is always seeking a kind of revolution—one that reshapes it, that frees its prisoners from the dungeons of history into the womb of the present, so they may be born again. The Arab world, like many regions across the globe, has witnessed these shifts in time. Some called it the Arab Spring—a new birth of history, or perhaps an attempt to fertilize old eggs trapped in the belly of the past.

After long years of trying to fertilize those ancient eggs, the birth came—but it was painful, bloody, and distorted. The embryos were damaged, the features unrecognizable. In many countries, the birth failed. Early signs were missed, or met with political and military interventions that tried to guide time back to the present—so it might settle here and begin again toward the future.

But in Damascus, the fertilized womb was stolen. Blood became its prison. The egg was stitched shut, bound tightly, and left to calcify. Years passed, in dark places, in silence. Then suddenly, it was uncovered—dragged into the light before the eyes of the world. Cameras rolled. The stitched womb burst open. Blood spilled across all of Syria. The imprisoned child was born.

The Super Ruler

The idea of a super ruler—one who never dies, who can rule all people without doubt, resistance, or even the smallest question—was the ultimate dream for those who wanted power, control, and to live off the efforts of others. But no one could truly become that ruler. So, they invented something else: ruling in the name of someone greater.

This is how the idea of "rule by guardianship" was born. The rulers would be powerful, yes, but they claimed their power came from a higher being—someone sacred, someone beyond reach. Someone who gave them permission to rule. That "someone" had to live far away, in a place no human could reach while alive. A divine figure—absent, unseen, but all-powerful.

He became known by many names: the absent ruler, the god, the creator, the almighty, the image-maker, the healer, the conqueror, the strong. As more rulers stepped forward claiming to be his guardians, they began to fight among themselves. Each claimed to be the true chosen one. The competition grew fierce—driven by greed, by pride, by the hunger to dominate.

To protect their claim, each ruler started to build their own version of the truth. They shaped the divine message in a way that fit their desires. Closed systems. No room for discussion, no space for others. And slowly, "the god of the unknown" began to rule over truth itself. He shifted how people saw the world.

We stopped looking at the future to understand the present. Instead, we twisted our present to fit a future someone else had already designed for us. A future that serves the god of the unknown. A future that chains the eyes and narrows their vision—from seeing what could be, to blindly accepting what is.

Living in a Cocoon

Can a person live isolated in a cocoon, cut off from the world? Most studies and observations show that a prisoner often dreams of escaping his cell, yearning to return to life where he can move freely, make choices, and experience opportunities. But there are also those who believe that humans sometimes escape open spaces. They reject the many options around them and dream of a cocoon—a space that traps them, limits their abilities, and confines their choices.

But how can this be? How can a human be created from one, and not two? How can hands be two, eyes two, legs two, kidneys two? How can the world be filled with so many colors, so many trees, so many layers? How can it be that species, races, and beings are so diverse and different from each other?

Everything in nature shows us that the world is diverse and plural, and that it doesn’t accept a single form or a single color. Everything points to freedom, to choices, and opportunities.

So how can I believe in just one law, one way of thinking, one definition of right and wrong? Is difference a mistake that needs to be fixed? Is the issue in accepting differences, or is the problem in the existence of differences themselves?

According to nature, the universe, and all its truths, difference is an inherent reality. Its presence is an essential part of existence. Perhaps the real issue is in accepting this truth—accepting difference and diversity.

To accept difference doesn't mean I must strive to make the other like me, nor does it mean I should reject them for not being like me. If I fall into this trap, I’m back in the cocoon again—trying to change the other, forcing them to be like me. But some believe that to preserve difference and diversity, we must seek ways to collaborate while respecting our differences.

But perhaps that’s not even necessary. Perhaps it is enough to simply live as we are—without seeking to change anything—just being in harmony with the laws of nature. The eyes need to look around them, allowing their mind to make comparisons, to help think, raise questions, and form theories that could help improve our world, make it better, and more beautiful.

Conclusion

We now live in a pivotal moment in the reshaping of time. We don't know whether this will end with a complete birth or another abortion of history attempting to rise from its ashes. Between a fetus swimming in the blood of guardianship, a super ruler who controls from behind the veil, and a cocoon that tries to force its view on the human mind and soul, the question remains: do we have the courage to cut the umbilical cord that nourishes deformity from the womb of the past? Or will we continue to suckle from the blood of the unknown until we harden?

At the heart of this fracture—between history and the present, between guardianship and freedom, between the unknown and reason—lies the seed of transformation, if humanity is brave enough to embrace it.

Saad Al Halabi a novelist, poet, and writer of short stories. He participates in cultural and literary initiatives, including Literally Peace and Tafakur Forum. He is also a regular contributor to The Samos Chronicles