Reading William Dalrymple's "Nine Lives" (a beautiful book on the state/fate of mystic traditions in modern India) came across this poem by the 17th Century Pashto Sufi poet Rahman Baba:

"I am a lover, and I deal in love. Sow flowers, So your surroundings become a garden. Don't sow thorns; for they will prick your feet. We are all one body, Whoever tortures another, wounds himself."

Could well have been written in the hippie sixties. So fitting for today's geo-political situation. Some struggles have been happening for a long, long time.