Eternal Solitude
The sun. The great ball of golden majesty that shines down upon the world, lighting day with its brilliant radiance. How many of you warm yourselves under its rays? How many of you take daylight for granted? How many of you idly waste time, ignoring the glorious gift of sunlight? I would do anything to see the sun again. To see the azure skies. To see the endless mountain ranges, great lakes and oceans, the world in all its beauty. That is my greatest wish. I’m so cold. I’m trembling all of the time. I am forever shut off from the warm sunlight. There is no luminous sun, no stars where I lie. No warmth. Nothing.
My skin has gone pale from aeons of darkness. I can only ever make out what is directly in front of me, the light of my eyes the only source of illumination to be found, and it is grossly inadequate. My body has withered from disuse and neglect. My sickly skin pulls taught over my bones. My ribs and spine push against it, and would be clearly visible if my prison were not so dark. But I am alone. I’ve been alone for so long now, I’ve forgotten what it is to hear another’s voice, the same way I’ve forgotten what it is to feel the warm sun, to see the azure skies.
I cannot move. I am bound so tightly in such a confined space that I have gone all but rigid to the point of stillness even if I were now unbound. My muscles, weak and malnourished, have locked into place. My bindings cut through my skin, down to the bone, exposing it to the chilling cold. My wings, clipped long ago, have withered also. The feathers falling over time, like the colorless petals of a dying rose, my wings are bound to my back so that they might not be spread ever again. The ability to stretch my wings their full span is perhaps what I miss most, second to the sun. They are broken now, useless, deadweight things. I spend my days in sorrow, weeping, cursing my fate, crying to myself. But no one can hear my silent screams. No one can wipe away my tears. Sometimes I shift and turn, but can move no more than a few inches. Even if I could, my enclosure is too small to allow much more movement than that. Sometimes I hum to myself to pass the time and forget my memories of freedom which can now only bring me further pain. But though I try to forget them, I still cannot help but dwell upon the days before this endless, exquisite misery.
I remember when the world was young and steeped in chaos. Endless wars plagued the planet and countless lives were lost. The people’s hearts were filled with hatred, and that bitter black emotion led to bloodshed and back again in an endless, vicious cycle. Life was but a sick joke, and there was very little good in the world, no reason to enjoy the sun. It was when things seemed their bleakest, when black clouds filled the skies, and the cries of war reached a symphonic peak, that a single ray of sun pierced through the clouds. I descended from the heavens, wreathed in golden light, wings shining purest white like pearls, golden bracelets and anklets adorning my wrists and ankles, a halo of solid sun atop my head. My countenance was soft, tender, then. With endless compassion, I stopped the pointless fighting and brought peace to the world. With infinite patience and wisdom, I taught them all the rules to live by within a perfect, utopian society, and all was well. A new age of tranquility had arrived, and I was hailed as a savior to all mankind.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Out of chaos, I brought order. Sometimes I forget my actions were in the name of love for everyone. I was an all-loving being once, so where did I go so wrong? Perhaps it was when I became frustrated with the shortcomings of mankind, and came to believe that they could not think properly for themselves. I imposed a harsher rule, my laws becoming stricter and stricter as time passed. Some began to call me a tyrant. When the first open rebellion against me occurred, it was a sign to me that free will was also chaos. I crushed the rebellion with my divine power, and imposed an even harsher rule. If my utopia was to endure, I could allow no one to defy my will. No dissenters would go unpunished. Eventually, I became paranoid. I feared that one day, beings strong enough to overthrow me would appear. I took preemptive action. I commanded that no man may be above the average strength. Those that were too powerful and posed a threat had to be purged. In a strange twist of fate, perhaps it was this that led to my inevitable defeat.
Ten warriors appeared to challenge me, and destroy the utopia that I had created. Even with my divine, cosmic power, and status as ordained ruler over all mankind, I was overwhelmed and beaten, my power sealed away and I condemned to an eternity in darkness. Ironic for a being with dominion over light. A cruel ending indeed. Thus ends the reflection.
***
My half-lidded eyes now focused on something that I had not seen in thousands of years – light! The glow was so familiar, yet new at the same time as it came to me, it having been so long since I had beheld it that it was nearly blinding, yet I could not look away! As it grew closer to me, I beheld that nestled within the light was a young girl. One of theirs, from the world above that I had been forever denied.
“What is your name?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Children who die before their time have no need for names, and so we forget them.” she said.
“How did you die, little one?” I ask, saddened by this young life cut short, yet delighted to have company after all this time.
“The grownups said that sacrifices have to be made so we can all be happy.” She said. How right those grownups are. Indeed, we all have a cross to bear. Sacrifices have to be made so that paradise can be born. Yet I pitied this poor soul. I felt the remnants of the endless compassion that I had once had, and somehow lost.
“Sadly, the truth of this world is despair. I weep for you having to understand this at so tender an age. But don’t worry. I’m here, now.” I tell her.
“Who are you, anyways?” she asks.
“An angel” I say. “People once called me the ‘Lord of Light’”.
“That doesn’t sound like a name to me. What’s your real name?” she questions, her eyes full of innocence.
I smile sadly. I haven’t heard my own name in a long, long time, so much so that it sounds foreign to my ears as I whisper it to the curious girl. “Lucifer… my name is Lucifer…”