Is this what it was meant to feel like?
The dry, heated, wind, is a furnace that pushes my long, silver, hair back out of my face and then into my eyes. It blows to-and-fro; covering my smooth, handsome, features with the dust of the earth. What had He seen in this dust?
Sandstorms that had once been seasonal now move in and out like a tide every day. The habitat that had once flourished, creating life beyond imagination, now lays barren and rejected; a discarded widow on the wrong side of a chauvinistic society. I taste the gritty nature of the world as my right wing softly kisses the ground and I land.
Had I really been gone this long?
Thousands of years felt like the blink of an eye to me. But, to this place, it was lifetimes. The people I had once known, who I was proud to call my friends, would no longer recognize me even if they were still alive. But, they weren’t. No one was.
Those who still walked the earth have become detached, void, soulless creatures. Even those who have found “religion” cling to it solely for escapism and self-esteem, not to follow, not to serve the world or those around them. If Hell were real, it would be something just like this: a self-aware species unaware of their purpose, constantly fucking up the only reason they had been spared.
I wish God would have just damned the humans.
But, instead, he allows them to live futile and fruitless lives, cursing his name—and condemning those who seem the most empathetic to each other, caring more for their own private culture and social clubs, their fragile egos and comfort, rather than the souls of others. The souls soaked dry and ripped out by demons.
Even those who should know better live as unashamed cunts, picking and prying at each other until there is no longer anything to pick or pry at. They are scabs that blemish the beauty of this land they call Earth… a land that was given to me because they had refused to tend to it.
They had one job: to tend the garden.
But, they had failed and now I get to command that flaming sword that kept them from eternity to burn it to the ground. I pity them because they do not know what they have done. God-damned little bitches, constantly whining instead of living… thinking instead of doing… sitting instead of saving...
