It doesn't matter what you do to us, since we have no means to stop you.

It doesn't matter what you think of us, since we can't think your type of thoughts.

It doesn't matter what you say of us, since we don't know how to understand you.

But before you raise a hand, a talon, a tentacle, I ask you to spare a moment for me to show you what we celebrate, today, of all days. Independence. To you, a simple word. Another thing that humans say. Maybe this word is hollow to you; meaningless and empty. But maybe this word overflows with ancient memories and indefinite history. You know what it means to you. But to us it is an infinite array of inscrutable but beautiful emotions, so fine that it is forever slipping between our clumsy fingers. 

It is the gentle sunlight trickling through the windows in the morning, fondling on your eyelids, and easing you into consciousness and a day of limitless joy and endless possibilities that you can sway.

It is the hardworking father returning home from work, into the open arms of plump and loving children.

It is the pulsing determination flowing through a youth's veins as he pursues the career he's dreamed of since his childhood.

It is the pride that warms the heart of an artist, a musician, a writer, and the undeterrable inspiration that fuels the student to try their hand at something truly great.

It is the impossible harp that we, humans, have been fingering for tens of thousands of years. But let me warn you that, by no means, is it something you can take away.

That same gentle sunlight would become a taunt, the carrot dangling from the stick of oppression, the beginning of another day with your hands tied.

That same father would return home to bony and cold children, ashamed of the lowly things their father had done, only for that extra handful of rice.

That same pulsing determination would now push that same youth to hide in dark alleys, picking pockets and playing dirty tricks for another day of life.

That same pride would be the knife that the artist used to stab himself, for making something that would surely lead others to this cliff, with demise at its bottom.

Independence. It is a bright, dancing melody drifting in the wind, one that should be heard by all. It is the chain linking us to sanity. Break that chain, and I promise you ensuing chaos, darkness lit ablaze only by the fires of violence and madness.