Fissure
In war; labels, memes, and slurs are the first bombs that drop. It might be on Yeek-Yuck or on in-yo-face.com; they drop subtly as careless words, clever but callous puns, and the most obtuse characterizations. We load up on tribal insults, aim for alienation. The slightest almost-irritation sets us off until the last cannister drops. Before annihilation, we're usually very well on the path to dehumanization.
Friction
In conflict, there's contact—the kind that leaves little intact after impact. In conflict, there is order—every man's hate neatly stacked; piles of resistance that no axe can easily hack. In conflict, there's a dance—not arm-in-arm, but men-at-arms—moving together and waltzing each other toward certain massacre.
Fault
It's impossible for two parties to engage in conflict without wanting the same thing. They both want all of that thing, and for the other party to have none of it. All claim, no compromise; just blames and poking precariously at each other's eyes.
Fracture
Broken people, shattered vessels; the messy dribble of blood spilling from receptacles tilting at awkward angles. Hearts tethered to vicious cycles, completely lost in the confused tangle of clot-stained manacles. Under the weight of this debacle: cracks widen, sanity dwindles, lives crumble; and what was once a gilded bubble is laid to waste in an unceremonious rubble.
Feral
War is the arena where we let our worst demons run wild—like feral cats, uninhibited in their attack. Fear, anger, and brutality of an unimaginable order; congealing into a beastly Thing that haunts its host with guilt, and hunts its victims with gore. It destroys both equally—the dead and the living... In war, some traumas are born, while others mature. And in the discombobulation of attrition, they fuse into a chimerical form, something that's more potent than a nuclear detonation in annihilating the humanity in us.
Failure
Isn't it such an irony that only after heads have been butted senseless, and resources depleted; only then do we materialize enough brain cells to seek amicable redress? After tempers have flared, and the heart is left in a certain blackness; hollow men, like wraiths on earth, grope around the darkness in the bitter after-taste of un-dead conscience.
Future
But I have received a vision—that Gog will be gone, and Magog will be undone. That their swords will be dumped in a mountainous pile of rust, and their rage will be quenched like a candle snuffed out by a storm. I have seen it, indeed it shall soon be—that conflict will be forgotten, it shall not even be a whisper on any pair of lips. Mankind shall live in harmony, peace shall fill the air like the fragrance of roses, harm and hurt shall cease to be in the world which shall be. I have seen it; and as sure as the sun rises, this hope shall emerge on the near horizon.
"In the beginning, it was heated but I read through. As I proceeded, it didn't seem like it was getting any better till I got the end, and my soul was flooded with so much relief".
So, the above is my writing.
From this piece, I could draw that we are currently living the war in the "Song of Gog and Magog".
But, as you ended with the hope that mankind has to look forward to despite the "war" we are fighting, I am motivated to not lose sight of that hope.
I hope my response made sense.