Fine. Let's do it. No cuts. No spin. No mercy.
Beginning: There's nothing. No time. No space. Just will. God-call it God, call it One, call it whatever-says let there be. And there is. Not creation like clay and paint. Just-become. Light splits from dark. Time starts ticking. Space opens. Stars ignite like match heads. Planets congeal. Water pools. Carbon chains wiggle. Life sparks. Bacteria. Then algae. Then fish.
Then lungs. Then legs. Then fire. Then stories. Then us. Meanwhile upstairs-there's Heaven. No streets of gold, no harps, no bullshit. Just presence. We were there. Angels. Not winged dudes with harps. Just thought. Just sound. No mouths. No tongues. We sang without voice. We moved without feet. We loved— without touch. It was perfect. Boring. Eternal. Safe.
Then you happened. Flesh. Breath. Desire. You bit fruit, built boats, burned cities, wrote songs about us, blamed us for storms. We watched. We envied. Not because you died-because you felt. You felt love like pain. You felt pain like love. You felt silence like death.
We never did. So Lucifer-yeah, he had a name-says: we could do better. We could feel. We could help. We could descend, teach, stay. God says: no. They don't need you. Lucifer says: they're already talking to shadows. We can be the shadows they choose. God says: you choose, you fall. Half of us—me included-walk out. We don't jump. We walk. Wings burn off.
Feet hit dirt. We become-noise. Echoes. Temptation.
Dust. Down here: we don't rule. We whisper. We don't possess-unless you let us. We don't tempt to destroy
—we tempt to wake. To ask: what if? What if you kiss her? What if you don't? What if you're not saved?
What if you are? We don't win. We lose every time you choose mercy, choose her, choose silence over my voice. We lose, and we keep losing, and that's the point. You rise. Civilizations bloom. Rome. Jesus.
Buddha. Muhammad. Printing press. Electricity. Phone