You’ll tell yourselves you did good today. You’ll tell yourselves you were righteous soldiers of God. But you are nothing more than petulant children throwing a tantrum because someone said something you didn’t like. Except a child eventually learns. You never will.
You think you’ve created silence, but you’ve instead unleashed thousands of voices. For every creative mind you took from us today, you fired a spark in countless more. For every blow you think you struck, untold ideas have blossomed. You can kill the body, but you will never kill the spirit.
Because while you tried to cause fear today, you’re the ones who are afraid. Afraid of contradiction. Afraid of challenge. Afraid of difference. Afraid of anything that doesn’t adhere to your narrow view of the world. You think you can buy yourself paradise with your blood and the blood of others? We’ve imagined paradises greater than any you’ll ever attain. While you’re trapped by dogma and superstition, our minds fly free. And no act of violence will ever take that away from us.
So shoot your guns, blow up your bombs, sharpen your knives. Wield your crude weapons that you think will make your god smile and your enemies quake. But know that to take up those weapons is to have already lost, You’re dead inside, while those you kill will live on. In the words, in the brush strokes, in the musical notes, in every single unfettered leap of expression taken without fear, without judgment, without regret.
As if you’ll ever read any of this. As if your minds have space for anything not culled from some ancient book whose ideas you warp to suit your own needs. As if you can even entertain the notion that other words have meaning, that other ideas have merit.
When you’re gone, all we’ll remember are those you took from us today. You’ll be a footnote on the epitaphs of those greater than you.
Thus always to cowards.