Father's Son

We all come from somewhere, a moist cavern or a warm bed. All placed here like pawns in a chess game with no players. Left to scribble and wander away hours. No gods looking down judging, no hellish fiend looking up waiting for his sadistic chance. Just us, and the web of lies or the tapestry of truth we weave. Heavy hands make a burning place, quick smiles lessen the burden, but bring contention. Honesty, that bare naked spirit makes us a strong armored titan, truth makes us burn like a never-dying star in the sky. Yet always we shrink away from the brilliance of our own existence, and fling mud at the other apes trying to create a steady drum beat.

Faggot, normie, liberal, SJW, cuckhold, pervert, pedophile, polyamorous bi, straight, nigger, Nazi, gook, honky, spic, gringo, left, right, trans, cis, and others more varied and lewd, all to draw those damn lines in the sand. Things to contain and control, with no love in them. Let's accept the diversity, and harm no creature. Like those ill-fated pagans of old, like those God-fearing Christians, like those Muslims who knew God is love, like the Jews wishing Shalom on all, like those atheists proclaiming the beauty of the ape-god, like those Hindus saying all is one manifestation of God, like the Buddhists saying we are the same. Like the man who loves his children, like the mother who is the source of all good, let's be like that.

And be no more the crawling sly beast of the garden, let us raise no more hell against the hedges of Paradise. Welcome all with a caress and a cutting word, love all, but accept no evil. The shades of skin, the long roads traversed, each their own universe which not all have journeyed, a little god alone in majesty needs no acclamation and no praise. Strong in their solidarity, safe in their sovereignty, all is one, and many things are blooming.

When that dark comes be ready with your own light, not the shadow of another one's flame, you own lighting is far more brilliant than an echo. Let us not be slaves to the whims of the past, or dogs for the call of the present, let us always admire our future, and worship the gods we will become, let us not be only our father's sons.