Letter to the Martyr in the Eye of the Hurricane

In the scars you carry
I see the story of courage.
You are the altar where bravery is sacrificed,
where the soul rises in sacrifice.
Each wound is a verse, each mark, a poem.
The pain you endured is the ink that writes your epic.

Your hands, once firm, now trembling,
held the sword of justice.
Your eyes, once full of hope,
they saw the world break into pieces.
And still, you remain standing,
rising like a beacon in the darkness.

Martyr's body,
you are the silent testimony of the struggle.
Your veins are rivers of memories,
your bones, pillars of resistance.
You are not just flesh and blood;
you are the echo of the cries of freedom,
the whisper of the souls that preceded you.

Oh, vortex of wild winds!
You who spin and devour, who undo what was built
with sweat and dreams.
You are chaos and transformation,
the cosmic dance of destruction and rebirth.

In the center of your fury, there is calm.
The eye of the hurricane, paradoxical and serene.
Watch the world in turmoil.
You are the balance point,
the place where everything is reconciled.

Body of the martyr, eye of the hurricane,
both symbols of our humanity.
One, the symbol of struggle and sacrifice; the other,
of impermanence and hidden order in chaos.

May this letter reach the ends of time and space,
so everyone knows we are made of flesh
and storm, of courage and stillness.

With gratitude and reverence,

An observer of life.