Unfaithful

One day I was born. When did I become conscious of it? I don't quite remember.

But I do remember this one thing from my past. I was in heaven, and I was a King... I lived like a King, but that was back when I was a child. Not a spotless one, but someone with a lot of goodness and a gentle heart, untouched by the darkness of this wretched world I now live in.

I felt at peace, surrounded by the church walls. I felt joy while listening to the muffled voice of that Christian band through the window panes.

My heart felt full when I shared my food with another child during vacation Bible school. It was a delight to take part in the feeling of communion without caring about who belonged where.

Then I was abruptly thrown out of heaven.

Into mere dust...

Strife, malice, hatred, and pain— a great deal of suffering. I was on Earth now, and the mud beneath me was sticky and gross. I was an outcast, an alien. But I had my guardian angels, protectors of this realm. Their presence allowed me to exist carefree.

I was picked up by an invisible hand, ripped away from where I was standing, and thrown into a place filled with fire and brimstone.

The Earthlings called it "Hell." Most knew it was Tartarus, a prison forsaken by the Creator of all creations. I knew nothing of this place. I never knew what it could do to my spirit. I was lost, abandoned without any sign of salvation.

I couldn't count the days I had spent in my prison cell, as the days were longer than those on Earth, and the nights were longer than the days. I don't remember what got me out of that place.

Was it my pain, or was it my prayer?

Was it my choice, or was it mere chance?

I was lost in the dark. I couldn't see, but I began exploring it. I felt the ground beneath me and waved my hands through the air that surrounded me.

I picked up hardened rocks from the ground.

I felt the presence of dark spectres all around.

Darkness surrounded me, consumed me, made me hungry, and then fed me with compulsions that gradually became my shackles.

I was punished, beaten by ominous hands. They abused me, stripped me naked, exhausted the last ounce of hope I had, to be alive and to thrive. They denied me my dignity, and at last, I gave in.

I became the same as the ghosts that surrounded me. I was the hand of the devil himself. And that made me proud. I felt raw energy surge through my veins. For the first time in decades, I wasn't weak. I wasn't helpless.

I could roar at those who thought they could shackle me. I could burn those who intended to violate me for sheer pleasure.

Suddenly, I was hit by a light so blinding I fainted.

When I woke up, the world was never the same. 

The world was too far from what I had known all my life. My eyes were opened by some inexplicable force of light.

I sensed. I saw. I felt. I cried.

I felt what true light was in millennia.

A river of joy overflowed from within me.

I exuded generosity, empathy, honesty, and devotion.

I spent three days and three nights embraced by this ethereal light.

But the ghosts of my past and the devil started whispering to me, and the light was gone.

Knowing what I saw, I ventured deep into the universe to learn more about the truth of this light that made me question the reason for my very existence. But the light was not of this world, and my earthly ways failed to reach its essence. It plunged me into chaos and madness.

I looked at the world, and I saw prisons like the one I was in—concrete cages filled with iron spikes that reached close to your skin while you sat there in agony, wanting to move, wanting to break free.

Its very nature was unchanging, malicious, and unforgiving.

I promised my soul to never enter a prison like that again. So I left Earth. I left the place and traveled somewhere far away from the Earthlings and the ghosts.

I was alone. But I was more myself than I had ever been. Stripped of all the dirt, devoid of the influence of those ominous ghosts. The devil had his grip on my heart and my body—but only from a distance.

One day the devil made me see a dark dimension.

I was paralyzed, stripped of all agency. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I heard chants, mutterings, dark esoteric voices—like witches casting spells on me. I felt visceral fear like never before.

And I called out a name in my desperation.

It freed me from the devil's grip.

That day, I became aware of the power of that name.

I was never truly faithful to Him.

Only once did I give up my all for Him.

But that was fleeting. An influence of His own essence.

And yet He continued to act in ways I did not understand.

Today, He seems too far away.

My Lord, my Savior, my King.

Today, I am unworthy of His blessings.

Today, I am ashamed—like I was before.

Before He gave me His light. Before He gave me His presence.

I wanted Him to understand why I abandoned my light.

I wanted to explore the dark. I wanted to acknowledge its existence and conquer the demons that pushed me around in meaningless directions for countless centuries. I wanted to be the author of my own destiny.

Now, as I live in the dirt, naked, stripped of all my glory and the gifts He gave me, I call out to Him with an aching heart.

Could I ever right my wrongs someday?

I am unsure.

And I hesitantly hope to meet Him someday.

I say this from within the deepest parts of my being.

The part that has not yet forsaken the forces of the light.

Your unfaithful child.