Dear Sir,
We were thrown into this predicament at the same time and we've battled for space within this body for years. You silently go about your business, deploying subversive tactics and carrying out night time raids on what I hold dear.
You are unable to deviate from the path you are on or open a dialogue with me. You are imprisoned in your silent work while I am free in having a voice; I can choose my reaction and that is my sunshine in your darkness; a choice in tyranny; a sunflower in your soiling of me. You may drag me along your path but I will resist with potent indifference to you. I will not "go gentle into that goodnight" (Dylan Thomas) but I refuse to rage against you; that is where you hurt me the most because that is where you take me from myself.
I hold a candle to illuminate the challenges you set me and I turn my true self towards you. I look through you and see the potential that remains in me. You have declared war on me but I will not waste myself on self-inflicted wounds. I defend myself by giving you rubber bullets; my reaction determines the type of ammunition you use on me. I can harm myself more than you can by an indignant rage; I will not "rage against the dying of the light" (Dylan Thomas) because I have a candle that will never go out...
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