The Mirror's Whisper is the voice behind the creation.
This is what The Courage Of The Coward has to say:
"There you kneel, trembling in the water. You know the truth already, don’t you?
You’ve known it for years.
It sits beneath your ribs like a caged animal, pacing, whispering: “move”.
But the mind—oh, the mind—writes its letters of comfort: Stay. Wait. Be reasonable.
It calls fear logic, and safety wisdom.
It feeds you sweet poison in the language of maturity.
It says, “Don’t bleed, not yet. Don’t speak, not now.”
And so you sink, waiting for permission that never comes.
You have been standing in this same water far too long, have you not?
You have told yourself you are patient, but what you really are is paralyzed.
You have stayed where your soul was already gone,
because leaving looked like dying.
And yet, every day you perish a little more by staying.
The coward is not the one who trembles;
the coward is the one who hears the call and builds a theory to ignore it.
You have been that coward.
So have I.
But look, there, at your own hand.
It’s shaking, yes, but it is reaching forth.
You take the blade of words, the blade of truth. You bleed.
And for the first time, the blood feels clean.
Because truth always cuts before it heals.
Because endings are not cruelty, they are clarity.
Because love, real love, begins the moment you stop pretending.
So let it pierce you. Let it spill. Let it end what must end.
Do not wait for the pain to leave; it is the proof you are alive again.
Bleed, and let the flowers grow.
Because flowers do not bloom despite the wound, they bloom through it.
Petals burst where the cut once stung. Roots take hold where you thought only pain lived.
Every tear that falls waters the soil of your becoming.
Every tremor, every gasp, shapes the garden you will one day stand in.
To choose the one cut that frees you over the thousand small wounds of delay.
To choose truth, even when it shakes you.
To watch your own blood become a seed,
and your own hurt become a bloom that feeds the world.
Do not fear the flowers. They are you.
Do not fear the blood. It is not an ending; it is the beginning of warmth remembered.
This is the day you follow that knowing deep within your bones.
The day the Coward dies in the name of Courage.
I see you.
I know you.
I love you."
—BV
