Revolution
What could a child see through their eyes of innocence? When fathers of the holy sanctuary get publicly executed in the eyes of the public? They wanted change, a system that will foster through the ages with the people benefiting the most. What could have been in the minds of the oppressors to kill such a dream; To kill such vision? Is it to instill the doctrine of them being higher than their brothers and sisters?
I guess they're called oppressors for a reason, oppress the oppressed so they can suppress those who want to question their rule. Only the bravest and boldest of men would ever try to topple their regime. So mighty is the hand who knows when to choose a pen or a sword. The fathers' death invoked a fire inside the people that they shall no longer be treated in the hateful and dirty hands of the oppressors. From what lurks deep from the heart of the tyrannical rule of the foreign power is an enormous flame doused by the fuel of hatred and anger. "The deaths of the innocent shouldn't go answered," as they said to their brothers in arms.
The aftermath of the tragedy calls for a polymath to draw a silver coin. The coin lands on the face of chance signifying another call of change, accompanied by the sound of drums that calls reforms on the system. Let our inks burn-in paper and let them echo far and wide and be read throughout for centuries to come. Let the children become fathers that will take faith and fight for the motherland. Poetry and literature be the salvation of dim minds that are engulfed by the darkness of the hour. Let it light the hearts and minds and people to expose their lies and false promises. Strip the oppressors of their clothes and lets the people know their true colors. We must make the call, and we must raise the banner that will signify our unity. We will fight for our sovereignty!
For the polymath never condoned to go to drastic measures like shedding blood like what the oppressors did. All he did was make us realize what it would be like if there was a change, something better that we deserve rather than just us being slaves in our land. As wise as he was, he was never afraid of death. He embraced death with a smile with his books in his hand, knowing that he made the right choice. As men stood with rifles in their hands, aimed in unison to him, he bid his farewell to his countrymen and this life before coming with death without regrets.
They thought this was the last that they will ever hear about people trying to destabilize their rule. Still, the secret society composed of those who were tired of the same awful treatment ignited their hearts to a glorious revolution. They never faltered by his death but instead stayed faithful like a good son to his motherland.
Change!
Change!
Change!
They utter the words as they echoed through the land, through the ears of patriots and civilians alike.
We must make the call, and we must raise the banner that will signify our unity. We will fight for our sovereignty!
The secret society ripped the papers of their foreign oppressors, which are meant to submit to their rule. They find the exchange for hefty amounts of their riches, which was supposed to be theirs in the first place, absurd.
It all started with one cry, the cry that will echo throughout the ears of our oppressors as they desecrate our homeland. The men take arms, and the women tend to the needy to supply support for the cause. That defining cry made us one, like a trumpet that calls for the sound of war that will determine and change everything! We will never falter and yield! We will protect our homeland! We will never bow down to these foreign blood that shapes us to one of their own. We will make history as of our own.
As we fall to death's pale spectre, I wish our countrymen to continue that cause that has been for ages; we were all destined for great heights. This country's richness was meant for our people and not for the nations swooned over it. Some may have turned blind to the false promises of these invaders, offered good land and titles in exchange for their countrymen's lives, doing a business out of a priceless land.
Oh! Shall we cry not for our deaths but for we mourn for our dearest country overrun by tyrants from nations across the sea! Today we will reclaim our home, our sovereignty, and our dignity. We shall never fall below from these oppressors as the motherland dictated us to be much more than meets the eye of the world.
We were destined for greatness,
We were destined to be free!
But it requires a big sacrifice for great things to be achieved. We must spill blood after blood after blood since war demands to happen, but our zeal and bloodthirst will be somewhat justified in our motherland's soil.
Cannons, Rifles, and Knives. All a recipe for destruction. Yet, we will never cower when we wield it. The blood of our enemies will stain our hands, and it's a tremendous honor to die for our motherland. So, let me lay down on the ground where I can hear the disappearing blood-curdling cries of men. Let me embrace the triumphant trumpets of triumph, for I did my duty for my country and family. Show me the waving flag of victory that we already kicked out the invaders before I'd meet my ancestors.
God help us declare our independence. Then, we can show our pride that we defeated the oppressors, where we can honor our fallen with the symbol of unity and pride in reclaiming our sovereignty. Sacrifice after sacrifice brought us where we are now, and generation through generation will preserve our sacred vow.
Our independence.
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As time passes by, as we celebrate our independence, why does it feel that we're still slaves in our own country? Are we still being blindfolded to the reality of the situation? Or don't have the guts to accept that this is the change we've yearned for and we've just learned to adapt to things in the ever-changing world?
Either way, the answer lies within our land. If only we can open our eyes, then we can learn from history.
-Marc
