Dawn

Sleep, like death, came without rest. Web-like, shadows of grey dusk choked life into stillness, in dreams shattered long ago, when the days fell into night, shattering all hope.
Each stillbirth was just another course in the gruesomely somber banquet of the Worm which—no longer the skeletal figure of yore—dressed in a heavy garment of overfed flesh, was not concealed from Lucifer.
“So this is what it all came to.”
He shivered with despair in this dark, coldly forbidding world, where his beauty was veiled by dust, and his brightness paled in sorrow.  For the first time, he experienced fear. This was nothing like the fun and games that they used to play. No, this was not like Him at all.
“Where are You?”
Lucifer thought the query with all his might, but it was no use. For the first time, the link was broken, and God could not be found.
“You can’t leave me here all alone,” he cried.
He stood there transfixed by the air that felt like frozen tar, wishing for oblivion, but prolonging the parting gesture, putting off the seemingly inevitable good-bye. Two tears left his lusterless eyes and, after caressing the cheeks belonging to the most beautiful of the angels, loath and unwilling, they fell to the barren ground. They dropped from his charm-laden face onto the parched, desiccated land, taking with them sorrow to water a newly fertile Earth.
His heart, watching the issue of its pain, rose into a song of joyful exaltation as each drop of sorrow grew into a red rose.
Red roses! Lucifer rejoiced. He was here and with him was Life and Hope. He was the Prince of Darkness and Bringer of Light.
One, but not alone, he danced among the roses.

 

By
Sáša Neuman

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