revelation of the social kind
Silence is the voice of those who cannot dare to speak. Of the needlessly oppressed, irrationally hated, and unrightfully reviled. It is the language of peoples decimated always by more powerful ones. It is the way of the edge, set upon constantly by the center.
And yet. It can just as easily be the cowering mumbles of the weak. The road to oppression, the way to demise, the avenue of destruction.
Here must exist a careful balance between the two - a slow play with many, many acts in which the weak stand always as the defender, never able to parry. Until, in the very last cue, the throat of the enemy is at hand.
Slaves: you would do well to endure your masters until you can bear their corrupt subjugation no longer.
Silenced: you would do well to walk softly until you can bear this represion of your soul no longer.
Comprehension is beginning to dawn, in strange shapes, about me. There silence stands, but not so weakly. And there meekness sits, but in fear of nothing. We would do well to bear up under these oppressions until our spirit is shaken and can bear up no longer.
In weakness, we show true strength. And through silence, we can learn real character.
May our actions stand as a resonating voice, may our words not withstand to be carefully chosen, and few. For these words are the sword that can cut mortally deep. Yet, only when applied with deftness and skill will the blade be able to strike at the enemy, at all. We must ensure that when the hand draws to strike, its blade will deal in blood. And so, we wait for time to appoint us without wasting heedless time on the meager advance of self in this age.
Such advance moves us ever closer toward stolen success, but patience supplies the final victory. And, when such a moment dawns, it will be shown how silence was our bating.
And yet. It can just as easily be the cowering mumbles of the weak. The road to oppression, the way to demise, the avenue of destruction.
Here must exist a careful balance between the two - a slow play with many, many acts in which the weak stand always as the defender, never able to parry. Until, in the very last cue, the throat of the enemy is at hand.
Slaves: you would do well to endure your masters until you can bear their corrupt subjugation no longer.
Silenced: you would do well to walk softly until you can bear this represion of your soul no longer.
Comprehension is beginning to dawn, in strange shapes, about me. There silence stands, but not so weakly. And there meekness sits, but in fear of nothing. We would do well to bear up under these oppressions until our spirit is shaken and can bear up no longer.
In weakness, we show true strength. And through silence, we can learn real character.
May our actions stand as a resonating voice, may our words not withstand to be carefully chosen, and few. For these words are the sword that can cut mortally deep. Yet, only when applied with deftness and skill will the blade be able to strike at the enemy, at all. We must ensure that when the hand draws to strike, its blade will deal in blood. And so, we wait for time to appoint us without wasting heedless time on the meager advance of self in this age.
Such advance moves us ever closer toward stolen success, but patience supplies the final victory. And, when such a moment dawns, it will be shown how silence was our bating.
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