The time had finally arrived when the moon was no longer a romantic dream, but only a sphere of ugly cragged rocks clinging onto it, devoid of any exotic imaginaries. Earth was no longer the mother of life, but dirt piled on top of skulls and plastics. God was a forgotten deity that no longer had any influence. Creation was an abandoned secret.
As I wandered along the banks of the emaciated river, the dumping grounds of human waste, I came upon a priest using his scepter as a walking stick. I recognized his tattered garb as something that I had seen in history books. I couldn’t help but stop and ask him many questions like; Who are you, and where have you been?
He replied, “I’m 250 years old. I’ve been walking among the earth for two centuries now. I saw the curtailment of all religious activity. The churches and temples all closed down, because the schools didn’t recognize religion, let alone God. They refused to pass it along to the children.
Christmas was celebrated as a secular holiday. Jesus, the forgotten man’s birthday, was no longer the primary reason for the celebration. The only legacy that was handed down was gift giving to meet the children’s demands. The more presents they got, the more they wanted, which was a never ending display of gluttony; another layer of plastic to be dumped on top of more plastic.
If I had any supportive followers left, I would return back to my home, the church, to try and persuade mankind to look into their hearts. They would see that the sacred secrets that inhabit their souls dispel any profane reasoning that tries to compete with the infinite greatness within them. Society has replaced religion with a superficial deity that has lowered their self-esteem; hence their desire to cling onto anything; any false messiah that comes along.”
With the look of dejection, he bid me farewell, lowered his head, and started walking away to another town, another soul to listen to his sad story. God, our forgotten creator, bless him.
God who? Jesus who?
Featured in Fullosia Press