He didn't mean to do it; the gun had just gone off. It was an accident. He knew he was to blame, though.
But not completely.
Why did he begin listening to those voices that he had ignored for decades? When did they start to make sense?
After it, of course - that which people still hadn't been able to give a title to in their minds. This event was what shook him. It was then, in a moment of hazy thought and disorientation he had begun to listen.
They had been shouting in unison, telling him, pleading with him, to put her away for just a little while. "We'll come back to her," they had promised. "We just need you to keep her looking the other way for a little bit. Just long enough for us to get our house in order."
He was still bleeding and grieving when he had agreed - when he had sold his soul.
So, he talked to Liberty, tried to explain things. The horror on her face spoke volumes. She scolded him for listening to those voices. "They're the extremists," she explained. "And they just want the power. They always have. Now, in a moment of weakness, you've given it to them! This has to be stopped."
That's when he pulled the gun. He just wanted to scare her; to keep her at bay while the voices fixed things. But Liberty was relentless.
The voices screamed at him, "Keep her away! It's going to be her fault when this happens again! Stop her!"
He raised the gun higher and told Liberty to stop. But Liberty was relentless.
The gun went off. Twice. (Did he pull the trigger?!)
And Liberty fell.
As he held her lifeless body, he suddenly understood that he had just signed his own death warrant.
Liberty was his love, his lifeblood. Without her, he would decay and rot, like those that had come before him. He would change. Uncle Sam would be no more. Just as the caterpillar becomes the moth, so too would he metamorphose into a totalitarian dictator, living on the fear and anxiety of his people.
His only hope, humanity’s only hope, lay in Liberty - in resurrection. A Liberty reborn like the phoenix, rising from her own ashes in the form of Revolution. She could lead those people that he would be grinding under his boot heel... Lead them against him and to... something better.
Even in his grief, he knew that it would happen. Liberty was relentless.
i really dig the expressive political message here well summed up... it speaks volumes too. i can see uncle sam representing all the bureaucracy and red tape that has literally killed our beautiful liberty.. in a sense this can be seen as a foresight perspective sort of image once uncle sam realizes what he has done it will be too late...too little and too late for apologies. excellent piece! more than worthy of a
This is a very provoking piece... and the text that accompanies it makes it a very powerful image thrice-fold. This can be taken in so many ways besides the obvious one, and in the end, it's still sad, stirring, and maybe for some angering. Great great stuff. Have you submitted this anywhere else? is the text your own or... ? This image and text definitely deserves attention on many levels. Great job. Get it out there.