I have come from a realm beyond time and space. Beings like myself, we are the Pilgrims of Eternity, come when humankind is about to annihilate itself. I have not come as a bull to rape a maiden and sire a demigod. I have come to try and heal humanity.

The last time one of us visited you killed us. You martyred us and created a false religion. Created an institution that contradicted the very teachings you sought to learn from and instead created a bastard child. One which did the exact opposite on which it was founded. Love and compassion.

Instead of love and acceptance. It wrought division and hatred. This story is not for the faint of heart or the narrow of mind. If you seek to better, yourself and your brethren I would advise that you open your hearts and minds and try to understand what we have experienced in our latest sojourn here on earth.

Once we leave, we will not return. I am Jove and we are the Pilgrims of Eternity. Although I am here alone, I represent the collective of all that you could be if you truly wished to aspire to what you mortals call God.

When I arrived, I took the guise of one of the least of you. I appeared in human form as a male. I lived on the street. I was without a home or occupation. I stood about six feet tall. I was Caucasian with blue eyes and salt and pepper hair and a beard that was thick and unkempt. My clothes were soiled.

I was called a vagrant and a derelict and was shunned by the good people coming from church. I was kicked. I was ridiculed. I was belittled and meant to feel that I was not welcome and had no place in the world of those who professed to be pro-life. The following is the story of my visit and my experience. Ultimately, I was left with a decision to make. Do I save humanity? Or help hasten its demise? What I found made my choice a difficult one. I told you this story is not for snowflakes; I believe was the expression that was used for those that felt being kind mattered.

When I arrived, I woke on the streets of a small town in central Pennsylvania. It was like many small towns in America. The year was 2022 the month was September. The children were headed back to school. There had been a pandemic that ravaged the world and people were slowly feeling a sense of normalcy. The previous two years were not the inhabitance of the United States of America's finest hours. It could have been worse.

Beneath the surface, a feeling of grievance was roiling. A certain subsect of the population felt that they were becoming powerless in an ever-changing world. The Caucasians and those that called themselves conservative had fallen for a soulless leader and could not accept the results of their presidential election. They were doing their best to take power that was not theirs to wheeled. The minority felt that political power was their God-given right, and they were willing to use violence and any means to secure that which was not theirs.

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For a people that espoused love, compassion, and morality they were anything but. I was accosted upon waking.

“Hey, bum. Get out of our way. Go back to the rock you crawled out from under.” Said a man walking down the steps from his place of worship as he saw me getting to my feet.

“Excuse me, kind sir. I am not I am sure of your meaning?” I queried, as I stood and brushed the street dirt from my clothing.

“Beat it. Is my meaning. We don’t pay our taxes to let beggars and hobos like you roam the streets of our good city.” Said the man.

“Sir, I am not what you call a hobo. And I have not asked you for anything.” I stated plainly.

“No, you haven’t. But you will probably pick out of the trash and sleep on a park bench. If you know what’s good for you, you will get lost while you still can.” Said the man.

“Is that a threat sir? I said.

“More of a promise. If I see you here after nightfall. You will be sorry.” Said the man.

“How very righteous of you sir. Coming from your house of worship, I see you carry with you the love and kindness of your god and savior.” I said as I walked away.

“That’s right you better get going.” Said the man, he cursed under his breath as he clutched his tome of ancient fiction and got into his big red truck with many flags suspended from the back.

What has happened to these people? I thought as I walked to the woods behind the church. We have been observing the people of this earth. Yet a bird’s eye view is more informative and instructive than viewing from beyond. I am starting to feel a palpable feeling of dread. But also, a discernible sense of optimism as well.

How can a people be so divided when so much is at stake. Their world is burning and yet they quibble over appearances and such petty concerns. Some would have others think that they are not responsible for what becomes of their world, their home. They are so focused on the material plane yet profess to children of some perceived god. I am here on a mission that appears more of a fool's errand. Only time will tell. But time is running out. The hands of their doomsday clock are ready to strike the witching hour. They only bewitch and bedevil themselves.

Perhaps if the women of this world were in power instead of the male of the species they may have a chance. It seems these males are working hard to further subvert any authority of the female of this race so that they can further cling to a sense of power. What of the power of love? What of the sense of unity and communion? If not now in these last hours then when?