Sound that echos
If I stand on the edge of a mountain,
and a voice is raised it bounces back again,
and again and again.
So too are voices which cry out in wilderness,
in places that are believed to be hidden,
as if to act in any way is acceptable and none shall know.
Yet these voices said long ago in solitude,
echo over and over and over.
In the world created not by the hands of man.
If he feels he created himself,
his mistaken for what does not exist cannot make itself.
When I spoke the words
SET MY PEOPLE FREE !
Those were not my words
but the echo of the voice of eternity.
If the creator of all things hears these voices,
how can he turn a deaf ear?
Is he, stronger than that which created him?
Above all men and women?
Above, that which created him?
His adviser,
the one telling him what will become of him
when his body no longer works,
tells him what he wants to hear, for fear of his own life and family.
Does not tell him what he truly needs to hear,
for it may be a beautiful as his own acts and those condoned,
have been upon this world.
Not by the will of the creator,
but by the will of the destroyer he serves.
I am not Burmese
That I say
SET MY PEOPLE FREE !
Nor is that my voice,
other than the one that created me.
Written by Tree Thunderchild
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