There exists no circumscribed day that encapsulates the essence of the martyrs.

While the historical significance of November 11 is entwined with a seminal event, an epochal juncture catalyzed by the valiant martyr Ahmed Kassir in 1982, the term 'day' inadequately captures the breadth and profundity of the martyrs' actions.

Delving into this profound subject warrants a commencement with words of Imam Khomeini (may God be pleased with him): 'All we have is from Ashura.' This epoch-defining event, perennial in the celestial and terrestrial realms, extends beyond the confines of annual remembrance.

Its resonance reverberates through the epochs, materializing with every triumph of the oppressed over the oppressor, in each revolutionary upheaval, with every sacrificial offering, and through the enduring legacy of the martyrs, who epitomize its sublime extension.

No singular day delineates the narrative of the martyrs.

They embody the entirety of unfolding events.

In moments of profound sacrifice, they voluntarily confront the exigencies of the present, challenging the tyranny of occupation in all its multifarious forms.

The tableau becomes their canvas, where the notions of defeat and surrender find no foothold, and oppression is bereft of a trodden path.

With every crimson droplet, a metaphoric bullet germinates, penetrating the very fabric of their existence.

It is a cumulative metamorphosis that transmutes them into a 'dispersed mattress,' and in that juncture, resounds triumphant ululations, heralding the consummation of a hard-fought victory.

No proscribed day characterizes the saga of the martyrs.

They encapsulate the entirety of the unfolding narrative.

The perpetual struggle between truth and falsehood finds unwavering torchbearers in them.

This cosmic conflict perpetuates, and the profound philosophy of martyrdom descends through the corridors of time, an enduring legacy passed down from one generation to the next.

The truth is their sole preoccupation, imprinted in the recesses of their souls, etched on the contours of their countenances, in their clenched fists, symbols thrown defiantly at the enemies of the divine, and in their tongues, intoning the reverent chant of 'O Aba Abdullah.' In this symphony of devotion and submission to the divine, the prospect of their defeat is inconceivable, even if the colossal might of earthly legions were marshaled against them.

No demarcated day foretells the destiny of the martyrs.

They embody the entirety of the yet-unfolding narrative.

It is the divine promise: 'And We wish to bestow favor on those who were oppressed in the land and to make them imams and make them heirs.' They emerge as the paragons of truth, its unwavering advocates, and the ultimate victors.

With every sacrificial drop of their life force, truth inches closer to its zenith, as if the Awaited Mahdi cradles it within his palm, and the resounding call echoes: 'The earth is filled with our justice.'