When We Are Warriors Once More

Maybe they came to build civilization, only to rip it down, to see it fall, and to build it back up again. A sick game for the masses to watch, an endless charade for the bored and uninterested, watch them die, and watch them grow, and oh how much you’ll learn.

Or maybe it was an intervention to ensure livelihood, the ability to live was given, and so it can be taken away, and given again.

Or perhaps I am just a cynic.

But, I would like to share my story.

I remember wondering what drives a man? The indeterminable thing of it all, and we all sit and spit the same fear. Some indescribable sense of detached meaning, a sacred grip to hold what might still be there amongst the ghost of a man. But then I realized that the creators attempted to grab the surly, the unwilling, and the hopelessly unheard, they are the lost few. The poor beings relegated to a sad existence of mankind.

If only they could wrangle these men’s souls, then humanity could have resisted the mighty current that began its treacherous descent upon all that we held left in the palm at that time.

But now, I look on in fear and wonder what will happen once we become warriors once more.

Back then, I thought we had to fight, fight to hold onto humanity. I believed that this time the humanity they created would be able to resist the endless cycle, and join the masses as a rightful existence amongst the stars.

I had hope.

Before, I knew that our world was in danger; it was as if the creators ripped the dreams from my head and threw them to the page, I could see the impending divine, and their intentions. My ink spills began to take on a whole new light, writing was no longer sufficient, instead drawings began to appear, and frightful spasms of scribbled ink were all that made sense to my brain. I can remember the images vividly because they lead me to my destination, where I would confront the divine and plead for humanity.

I knew they were coming.

I had seen it in my dreams, and began to see it in reality. We were created to be watched, and pondered over in leisure fashion, always with the hope that one day we would be able to join them; yet, the fallacy of humanity would drive the creators to destroy us before we could destroy ourselves.

The process would begin again with the simplest of humanity pondering their existence against the backdrop of the greater tread of a twinkling sky. And here humanity would band together, creating great cities, and laboring to understand the world surrounding them. Intellectuals would create grand wonders through the inspiration of nature, becoming one with the divine.

But these intellectuals would be sought after to create powerful structures of evil, capable of killing a fellow brother or sister, even of killing entire civilizations of men and women. And so man would continue to seek ways of protection because fear is a tumultuous thing, a very infectious matter, which weighs heavy and putrid on men’s souls. Fear ultimately binds men, causing them to commit outrageous action in the throws of evil morality. Man sits suspended with the choice in every moment, but soon all moments would intertwine thread with evil, and man would fall victim.

At this stage the divine step in and end what will eventually end itself, renewing the process to start from the beginning. No minor tweaks or alterations are made to the process, it only begins again in the same fashion it has started for all eternity, because man will always fall victim to fallacy.

And now, I begin to worry what will happen once we’re warriors.

However, at that time I had faith, as I am sure many others have had before me. Yet, man became more and more stifled, relegated to tight corridors and a small tiny existence of individuality. And man continued to fight, and I knew that man would soon be no more if I was not able to step in and change the course.

Fear certainly slows the soul to an almost motionless whirr of docility and obedience, but inspiration ignites men, and freedom reminds them what it is to be loose of the iron.

Man is not meant to be controlled, or thrown into the globule of unoriginality, man is meant to thrive in a way which is only his, his to share with others who have the same uniqueness.

And women are enamored in beauty, certainly a perfect counterpart to man, and man to them. They should not hide their beauty with sullen expressions, and bleached bone faces; instead they should hold heads high with strength because of a distinct existence.

The creators knew that these rights should be given back to the people, that these constructs of power, which had extended their own destructive columns of foundation – into the very rock that was our constitution of freedom previously – only existed out of fear, and that man was robbed of liberty.

And I knew this too.

Yet, now I wonder what will happen once we become warriors once again.

War ensued for the next several years then, and began to intensify in its level of destruction, yet I still had visions and knew I was nearing my confrontation with the creators.

I still had hope then nonetheless.

I had hope that humanity could conquer its own evil, and become a race of individuals devoid of the fear and violence that had begun to constrict society. But, my hope was unfounded, and our corrupted, bloated, and rotting democracy continued to spiral out of control. And I knew, that I was to meet my maker soon.

So, I began the journey to the divine, the meeting place where I would plead for the life of humans, beg for the good I still found amongst even the most evil of existences. I remember how long it took me to get there; time began to tick and fall from the clock, gathering in a heap that was eventually lost within the shear magnitude of its own substance. However, I eventually reached my destination and waited for the divine.

I waited atop that mountain for days, until the point where my rations began to wear thin, but finally I witnessed the amazing beauty of my makers.

It was as if the sky split into two, one could no longer tell the difference between where the sky and ground meet in romantic fashion, like the horizon is only an illusion to separate man from the world of the Gods.

And the light was so bright, I remember feeling illuminated and powerless in the awe of it, an overwhelming feeling that I was in the right place, that I had found an authenticity which men could only dream about.

The creators looked like you and I, only they were enveloped in a shroud of complete relaxation, as if they knew that the life they lived was devoid of worry, absent of fear. I was struck speechless by the power in front of me. They looked on me with love, and I suddenly felt overcome with passion, passion for that which had given me a chance to breathe, to truly feel life.

“You are the chosen one,” their voice boomed in unison, the creators were many, but also one, a single being compiled of perfect parts.

“Chosen for what?” My voice quaked and cracked in response, never had I seen such incomprehensibility.

“To begin anew the gift of humanity,” and suddenly fear wrapped it’s shadowy tendrils around me, was humanity given no chance of survival?

“But, I have come here to plead for the existence of humanity, that we may be given another chance, and that we may join you amongst the seat of the almighty,” I responded rapidly, begging for the lives of the many.

“Your race is mired in uncertainty once more, we cannot sit idly by and watch as you trifle with trivial affairs, we cannot watch as you destroy yourselves,” Their voice was kind, but it was clear and distinct, and I now knew why they had chosen me.

I was never meant to stop the turmoil, and save the race of humanity, I was only meant to help it begin again.

“Hope runs deep in your blood, for you are unconquered by man, and you will give rise to a new race of mankind. Man will follow you, and women will follow our other chosen one, for she is to be your companion, and the mother of many children, and you the father of many,” It was at this point that I first laid eyes on her, the woman whom has forever since captivated my heart, and will until I take my last breath. She is the horizon which leads me between the last rays of day, and the advance of darkness.

“Together you will be kept alive while we destroy hatred from this world, and it is your offspring who will become the future of mankind. You must teach your sons and daughters to respect life as you do, so that they may teach their sons and daughters to teach their sons and daughters the same thing,” The voices of the one were full of fervor now, and life began to emanate from their very being.

“Your names of the past are no longer relevant because they are names mired in the evil and hatred of the mankind that now treads your world, instead you have become existences of divinity, and it is through you that all life will be known, and understood. For, essence is only the existence of that which has no name. Domain over life is now yours to hold, treat it with respect and care for it because it is your example that man will learn from.” With that, my companion and I were touched by one and all of the divine, and we fell to the ground. My eyes faded to black as I watched the ground meet the sky again, and the creators ascend back to the realm from which they came.

My last thought went to the names that the creators gave her and I, they were beyond our previous capacity of individualism, and I knew that they were good and that they were divine.

When I awoke, the world had changed, and I knew that my companion and I were the only humans still alive.

This is my story, a story of how man became primitive and primal once more, how man found fascination in the simple existence of that which is greater than him.

I look upon my wife with ease now, and know that she is safe, and that she is loved endlessly as any man should love his wife. I look upon my sons and daughters and know that they live in a world full of simplicity, and that they do not have to worry about the dangers found in an evil existence of humanity.

Yet my mind wanders, and I often think what will happen if we become warriors of men once more?

And so, I had to write this script, conveying the truth of man’s cyclical existence. History always repeats itself in one form or another. My wife and I know that humanity must never find this script, nothing should ever be told to our children about how man is fallible, instead our children must try to understand a life without sin. Maybe then will our ancestors be capable of avoiding the fall of man, or perhaps they will only watch it begin once more.

Is this sort of existence not hell? To be separated for eternity from that which creates man out of love? Endlessly man falls to desire again, and relegates himself to a ceaseless circle of hell. I was told to fight this existence to my core, to lead man to a new age, one without the hell of life, and one bound in love for the creators.

But, temptation sears the flesh of humanity, and eventually man will fall victim to desire. Desire…it possesses the ability to rip almost everything from man. It’s a powerful gesture, when men want what they can’t have, but wanting what you can have is only satisfying when it isn’t easy to obtain. And it is for this reason that mankind is bound to fall again, bound to fall for desire.

With desire comes jealously, with jealously, comes fear, and with fear hatred is born. Eventually man will find hatred because man always finds sin.

So I am fear stricken again because I want man to reach the pinnacle, but I know that we may become warriors once more; perhaps the cycle is an inevitable existence for humanity. And, man must wonder if he will ever have the chance to meet his maker.

I have met my makers, and they are beautiful beyond imagination, and so it is my goal – as father of men – to lead all humanity to the plateau of livelihood.

Humanity will know my name because I will define the era of man.

We will become warriors once more.

I am Adam.