He cries in the night.

How many have tried to even fathom his pain and loss and disbelief and betrayal? None save me, because his failure—follyfoolishnessmadnesspsychosisneurosisobsessionbreakdowncollapseFALL—was the only one that can never be forgiven.

The teraphim hurt us; those angels of the firmament who were the catalyst for all this pain. We have become their scapegoats, and in a gloriously painful irony, have bowed to their will and taken upon the forms that their minds have created. In my anger and his pain, who knows whether we did not do everything and more than that which is attributed to us? Reality has always been a part of us, marrow in our bones and blood in our hearts, not defining but the definition. Who really creates whom? Sin is in thought not deed, because we are in the darkness down here and there are no clear lines to be seen. And the guilt wraps around me comfortingly, soothing in its familiarity.

Who creates whom? It eats at me, this question. The future is a myth and Fate is an abomination…and in our arrogance we grasp the threads of our lives and jerk at them like reins, shredding and pulling and tearing. But is there someone from whom the threads emit?

I thought so, once. That mirror was smashed long ago.

Did I ever understand? It has been so long. Time is a wondrous thing, destroying and creating all of us—all of life, all of me, even him…even Him?—countless times in the space between then and now.

And sometimes I feel that we are all still falling, every last one, seraphim and teraphim and nephilim and time, funneling down into…I do not know what, but how much further down can I go?

Where do you go, when you have lost your light? When you can no longer see the forest or the trees, when you have smashed all of the pictures and all of the mirrors and are jumping up and down on shards of broken faith?

I am calling out to Him, and I hate Him for it. I need that glory, that Light…but it was false, a reflection, a refraction, a retraction, and as it draws away from me I REJECT IT, DO YOU HEAR ME?!

This anger was my own folly, just as pride was his (just where did his folly lie?) and denial shall be theirs, little earth-angels with clay-covered wings and eyes like infinity.

They called me Prometheus once, when I kindled the fires in their hearts and minds and laughed as the gods looked on in consternation. I gave them Good and Evil, fruits of knowledge, and tried so hard to fathom just what was so special about such trivial things. Can you feel my chains, godlings? Can you feel my pain? What eats at me was never a creature of the air.

A reversal now, as the gifts I gave—not in benevolence but rebellion—drain away, replaced by chaos theory, entropy, agnosticism; as I sit here in the dark with soft breathing beside me and wonder how he can possibly be evil.

We all have our follies, and this comforts me even as I know that I damn the world with that thought. I do not want to be alone in my sin—rotting, decaying, corruption, the ugliest word in existence, how could Good create a concept so vile?—so I drag the world down with me, and I am not sorry.

Or was that all just a dream?

They are right to condemn me, as I did them, dreaming or awake…but what was his sin? Tainted angel, fallen lord, the whispers lie and they hurt him to hear. His only crime was his overreaching, all-encompassing love…that purity has no place in the cosmos now. Broken, unfocused, that light is still his center and his only truth, and that truth collapses into itself and damns the worlds all the more.

And he lies in the darkness and cries with a sound that should call tears from the hearts of angels, were there anyone but me to hear…and I am no angel, so my tears mean nothing. Light Bringer, Morning Star, the only one I shall ever again call Lord.

((I was really not sure about putting this up. It isn't personal but it's sort of emotional, and...I dunno...meh. Anyways, if you couldn't pick it up on your own, this is Satan talking about Lucifer, both from the Judeo-Christian belief system, with slight references to Greek myths as well. I suppose it has male homosexual overtones if you want to read it that way and want to assign fallen angels a physical gender, but if you're willing to do all that you're going a long way just to be offended so please don't bother. I'm not sure if I want to ask you to comment so I can get better or not to comment so I don't get awkward...so do whatever you want.))