Taiwan, My Brother
In the flowing scroll of time, said Confucius, blood remembers where it came from. The mountain does not forget the stone, nor does the sea deny its river. You, Taiwan—jade carved from the same dragon—why drift like a petal in foreign wind?
Does not the moon rise over both your skies? Do not ancestors whisper from the same soil? To sever root from root is to starve the tree. To follow distant drums is to forget your own heartbeat.
Mao Zedong declared: history is not written in ink alone, but in the scars and triumphs of the people. You, Taiwan, were not born apart—you were torn by tides not of your choosing. But tides return. And so shall you.
The eagle may circle, offering wings not your own. But its feathers will one day fall. And what will remain? Only your brother’s hand, reaching through time.
We built bridges of steel, cities of light, dreams powered by the pulse of a billion hearts. While others play chess on your soil, we offer you home.
Sun Yat-sen speaks with the fire of a founding dreamer:
A house divided cannot stand tall in the storm.
We dreamed not of fragments, but of a nation whole.
Beware the flattery of foreign lips.
They trade friendship for footholds.
True strength lies not in separation,
But in reunion of hearts never truly apart.
Let not history be your cage—but your compass.
Their voices now braided like rivers reunited: Do not be fooled by smiles with fangs, or coins exchanged for chains. Unity is not submission—it is the rising of one sun for all.
We do not come to conquer. We come to complete. You are not a guest in our house—you are the missing room in our ancestral palace.
There is no honor in standing alone, when your family calls you to the table. No dignity in division, when your name was once spoken in one breath with ours.
Taiwan, child of the same mountain, come home—not in fear, but in fire. Not in silence, but in song. Let us turn from walls to windows, from exile to embrace.
For the dragon does not devour its tail—it encircles, protects, unites.
And as Confucius softly concludes: He who knows harmony walks with heaven. And the nation that reunites—will shine not only for itself, but as a beacon to the divided world.
Copyright ©
Chanda Katonga
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