One With the Dusty Ground

He’s waiting for attention; hoping the world will recognize Him for what He is. His transparency wins out. In reality, He’s nothing -- no more important than a leaf floating on the water. He was invented to explain their flaws. Then He was lied to, doubted, insulted. He falls from up above to the asphalt below, just a pile of rags. Of a sudden, He seems to wilt even further, as He becomes one with the dusty ground.

The breeze of the wind touches Him no longer, and He and His world will never share a mind of their own again. He has attention now. People arrive, crying, scared. They feel cheated, they feel abandoned, but really it is they who abandoned Him. They sit in the cold pews, begging the saddest question of all. “Why?” They envy those who have known no such evil. No one watches as the freedom bird falls from the sky, ablaze. Yet everyone knows. They call to Him. No answer; just an eerie silence. A silence they would have shrugged off in an earlier lifetime. The community hugs the people like sausage skins. Enveloping them, their sense of individuality. Variability is frowned upon. Culture is law. Law is undeniable. The beautiful utopia they once inhabited disappeared with Him. The beautiful utopia they once inhabited left them in a world unfamiliar. As they thin out, reality sets in. Panic sets in. People are no longer recognized, as their faces are erased. He was left alone. He left them alone. He became one with the dusty ground.

The steamy music continues.