“I AM human, you idiot,” Godb (‘God' or 'His Opposite’) fires back.
Does that mean He is just human only with no trace of divinity or that He is only currently human in order to appear in this lower realm? Perhaps it is more trickery to confuse me like the witches did. One thing I can't stand is the cowardice of enemies too weak to present themselves on the field of battle like witches do.
Call me old fashioned, but I like to see my foes facing me without fear so I don't have to feign a handicap just to discover who they are. I've always been the type to be very clear on my feelings towards people. Only rarely have I ventured outside my comfort zone by pretending to like someone that I actually didn't. Lies of character don't suit me.
I never understood the expression: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Why would I subject myself to the troubling effect of purposely surrounding myself with my enemies? Shouldn't I want my friends to be closer than my enemies? What kind of coward is unable to verbalize their feelings to someone they hate that has gotten too close to them? But to place myself in the lion’s den wearing last year’s catskin and expect to walk out of there unscathed is sheer madness.
At least I can respect a man, to whatever degree, who has the good sense to communicate his disdain and provides me with the opportunity to distance ourselves equally so that any battle or fight that ensues is at least a fair one, given a sporting chance.
Unfortunately, witches were raised with a whole different system of moral turpitude. Emigrating from one of the many distant star systems that sustain habitable ecosystems, they quickly assimilate into our poorly designed economic infrastructure and rise from homeless to homeowner in a matter of months. Meanwhile, us Earth-raised devolved species struggle to make rent payments as our children sponge our finances into disarray.
Witches are incapable of reproducing here. There's something about our gravity and barometric pressure that dictates their inability to maintain pregnancy of their offspring. Needless to say, kidnapping was strictly fiction until the aliens began colonizing our planet.
“Then am I God?” I ask in confusion.
“Idiot!”
"I'm not God?" I question.
He shakes his head in disbelief.
"You're just a baby," Godb replies.
"Baby?" I answer in disapproval.
"You're wings haven't even sprouted yet," He explains.
"I'm a bird?" I ask.
"You a bird ass nigaa, dats foe show," interrupts a demon from behind the bar named Avargo. He turns his back and grabs me a Heineken to soften the insult. "Heere, izz on me," he adds.
"What?" Godb yells.
"Come on God!" I argue, "he said it's on him."
"I heard what he said," Godb replies.
"So what's the big..." 'deal' would have ended that question if I wasn't interrupted.
"He ain't gonna pay fah shit," Godb answers, knowing my question without letting me finish, "den I'm out fie bucks!"
"Fine, here God," I state, acquiescing to his monetary demand as I reach into my front pants pocket to pull out my over-stuffed wallet; more useless junk and half-shredded receipts than actual money or any financial instruments.
My credit was still suffering the vicious poisoning I inflicted with my careless spending almost a decade ago. The banks left their mark on me, and the collectors have kept my three reports in the red with continual monthly updates of my negligence.
"Look ah much izz wallet full. Looking like a pocket puss or somting," the demon Aquatto adds to the mix.
Godb stands silent with hand outstretched waiting for me to pay for the beer I don't even want at this point.
"Gah moe gas den paypah," Avargo joins in the mockery.
Wait a sec! Five? I'm a brother, it's only three," I argue as I hand Godb a five dollar bill.
"Ain't got no change," Godb answers, pocketing my bread with self entitlement.
"Then add it to my tab, yo," I demand.
"Ah ite," Godb answers.
"Tryna play me!" Ahass playful calls out to me as she walks into the room.
It's because of her that I'm even allowed into The Hotspot in the first place. She walks over to Godb, hugging him from behind as she passes me a friendly wink; a reminder to me that among these demons, she still considers a newborn angel closer to her in friendship and trust.
"He dinks he God," Godb informs Ahass, stepping forward, forcing her to release her clasp as he turns his head slightly to acknowledge his feelings for her.
"Oh boy, Kaywonne, not this again," she warns me, knowing when I drink too much, I start to lose my grasp on reality and begin imagining the most fantastic ideas are the most certain plausible events around me. At that point, one more drink, and I'd need to be strapped down for a few hours and force fed water and milk until I sober up.
"But I..." I begin, but her silence stops me as she doesn't even need to lift her eyebrow to suggest I relax and cease whatever rollercoaster ride I may be ensuing at that moment. Today's conversation with Godb was more of a bungee jumping event than a rollercoaster ride.
"You want a sip?" I ask Godb.
"I done drink dat crap," He answers.
"Lemme geh somme," Avargo orders as usual.
"You could geh somme if yah wuzz a porn stah," Azerto chimes in, entering a few minutes after Ahass in his typical fast-paced gait. Azerto grabs the scale off the bar and leaves the room as quickly as he came in before Avargo has a chance to answer Azerto's sarcasm with his own clever witticism, which Avargo is never quite able to construct in the few moments available to defend himself after being mocked. Azerto smiles at Avargo and taps a friendly hello onto Aquatto's shoulder as he exits into the back room.
"He got you good!" I toss my burn at Avargo, riding the wake of Azerto's verbal victory.
"Shuddup fooh," Avargo replied, "yo gimmen me a sip oh nah?"
"Hell no," I answer, taking another swig of my bottled brew with my self-righteous superiority.
"Kaywonne, lemme get a bogie," Ahass asks me. I reach into my pocket without responding, leafing through the contents to grab the cigarette pack buried under a small pile of personal effects.
"Me too," Godb asks.
"Yeah, me too," Avargo and Aquatto both request in unison.
"He ain't a cigarette factory," Ahass defends me.
"It's alright," I respond as I hand out half of my remaining smokes to the anxious crowd.
"Do you know what the gift is that God gave every newborn baby?" Godb asks me. The others in the room fall silent. Perhaps the silence is from them suddenly stopping to gauge my response and judge me accordingly. But perhaps I simply drowned out their voices as I gave Godb my undivided attention.
"I dunno," I respond. He doesn't answer. He just stares at me as if it's something I should already know.
"You already know," He confirms. Now I feel like a sheep amongst the wolves, all salivating to get a taste of the fresh blood brought in for the unsuspected slaughter.
"Because they are a blank slate?" I ask in confusion. His question was not a request to determine the cause of something; it was to identify a gift all babies are given by God, but the essence of His query was lost to me seconds after He asked. I realized I've never encountered a person who claimed babies were collectively endowed with anything other than needs and cravings.
"You're a blank slate!" Godb fires back. The mixed crowd of half demons and fallen angels giggle secretly as if not to spoil Godb's fun when the moment arrives that he reveals the answer and I have that "Ahah!" moment that I revel in while the audience simultaneously laughs at my ignorance.
"A mother?" I ask in desperation.
"Mothafukka, you stoopid azz hell," Gigi Theefe chimes in on Godb's behalf. He nods slightly in agreement, disapproving of her arrogance, but overall agreeing with her statement.
I smile away my discomfort. He shakes his head. Snickers and laughter echo silently against the backdrop of the stage behind us.
"The gift of eternal youth," Aquatto jumps into our conversation, confirming the silence I imagined earlier was actually the room focusing on my response in order to find fault and mock me with judgmental superiority upon any answer I give; perhaps even if I did actually figure it out.
"Two years of silence," Godb finally reveals; however, His response flies right over my head and requires further explanation as I indicate with my intelligent query.
"Huh?" I ask, knowing laughter will follow me with mocking self-entitlement.
"They can't talk," Godb clarifies, "for two years, babies can't talk, only listen."
I shake my head in confusion as my focus slowly draws on the floorboards beneath me. I simply don't get it. Do I talk too much? Is that His meaning? Granted I talk a lot, but I like me. Nobody else seems to, but I decided long ago when I first arrived to this God-forsaken nation of demons and sorcerers that I would make sure my words and thoughts entertained only me.
And if anyone should figure out the hidden humor behind my hollow sarcasm without me explaining it, then so be it. At first I would explain when peers questioned my words, and their cynicism turned to laughter every time. But it was always cynicism first. No matter how many times I explained my humor. And no matter how many times their acorns of disdain turned to joys of newfound humor, I was always doubted time and time again. Eventually, I grew tired of explaining because I ended being the only one who didn't laugh at the joke intended to be shared.
So, yeah, I like me. And if I stopped to explain the hidden references, double entendres, and witticism, then people within earshot might briefly like me too until the next time an explanation was required why I was the only one laughing at my own jokes--an explanation that would remove my own laughter. So I stopped explaining, learned to laugh quietly, and isolated myself from others as my humor now yields no laughter whatsoever, but I still like me.
So what if I talk a lot? Does that mean I'm a baby? I just didn't understand if Godb was giving me personal advice to talk less, or the riddle had greater impact?
But as it began to sink in, that babies couldn't talk, I realized why He had called me a baby earlier on. I AM a baby in this newfound culture I would soon be intimately involved in.
And as a newborn angel--a rebel of hell's cold, dark dungeons--the best advice anybody could have given me was just, "Shut up!" But of course, this wouldn't be much of a story had I listened.
I leave to run two blocks away to the supermarket. The walk along the building's windowless exterior normally carries a chilling breeze, but it's eerily calm outside until the ground begins to thunder as the neighborhood scenery melts and I sense Godb without seeing him.
"You have made me a promise my son," He says.
"But they are not ready to accept me, my Lord," I answer.
"Let me decide when they are ready," He answers.
"So then now is my time to rise?" I ask.
"It is," He answers.
"What of the non-believers?" I ask.
"How long do you think they will remain non-believers when they see you rise among them?" He asks.
"How will they know I am for real?" I ask.
"I am your Lord, master of the infinite realms, God of all of existence. I have chosen you, that is all you need to understand," He explains.
"But this is such a heavy burden. What if I am not ready? I beg you to choose someone else," I plead.
"And that is why it must be you," He replies.
"Is there no one else?" I ask.
"No, there is not," He states very matter of factly.
"What if I'm not ready?" I ask.
"My child, I have brought you here to Mount Zion, atop the highest peak, center of all the lands, to dwell in My house..." he states before I interrupt.
"Please my Lord, allow me to return home. Take this unholy life from this body and bring me home where I belong," I beg of Him.
"Your place is here. You are doing the Lord's work. Your spirit shall always be with me, and you shall always know Heaven in this realm. No other being on this planet can say the same. They will be envious of you at first, because the closest they can come to knowing is believing and having faith, but now you shall rise up from the ashes of this diseased planet and provide the spiritual medicine they so desperately crave," He says.
"Then I am the one, chosen above all others, representative of the divine realm here in this damned and forgotten hell?" I ask.
"It is not damned and it is not forgotten," He corrects.
"Why then Lord? Why was my childhood so hard? Why did I suffer such terrible pains in my youth? Where were you?" I question Him.
"I was always there with you," He explains, "when times were at their hardest, I gave you the strength to carry on, the strength to withstand, the strength to grow strong when others would have fallen to their death."
"But why did it have to happen my Lord? Why did I suffer so?" I ask.
"This life is suffering. Some worse than others. Yours was the worst of them, true. But you are my strongest. There was nobody else to withstand such pain. The life you lived had to be lived, that was not a choice I could change. You suffered so that you may enter Heaven."
"Then allow me to enter, my Lord," I offer.
"You are already in Heaven. This hell might seem endless in darkness and reach, but it is just a tiny fraction of the great Heaven that surrounds it. Everything that exists, must exist in Heaven," He explains.
"I still suffer my Lord," I say.
"You still suffer because you have forgotten Me," he explains. A tear forms in my eye and rolls down my cheek.
"Father! I am sorry. I did forget. I lost my faith. I begged for death, and as hard as I tried, death would not come for me," I state with tears now rolling down both cheeks.
"I know my child, it is because I would not allow it. You have a great destiny to fulfill. The people of this planet need you. Their faith is all but gone. They don't know what to believe anymore so they turn to their science. They invent false theories and truths to explain what they refuse to accept. The light emitted from the stars does not brighten the darkness because I do not allow it to. There is no other reason. It is time now to give them hope that God does exist and they will repent or your word shall govern with a mighty force," He explains.
"What do you mean, my Lord?" I ask.
"Whatever you command shall be true. Your word is law on this planet, for you are the one true king and ruler of all the lands on this planet. Let no president, king, czar, or caesar rule above you. All the people on this planet are equally cast under you as their only ruler. You will recruit others to help you, and they are waiting. I have selected a chosen few to help you on this quest, and they will seek you out," He explains.
"How will I know them?" I ask.
"You will know. Just as you have always known your destiny even if you refused to accept it," He says.
"Forgive me father," I plead, "I have forsaken you. I turned my back on you and forgotten my promise to you."
"You do not have to ask for forgiveness. I knew the road we chose for you would be a difficult one. You yourself chose this life because you knew nobody else of the other angels could withstand such abuse. It is I that should apologize to you my son," He states.
"An apology from God? Can there be such a thing? Isn't the very concept of God such that He cannot ever apologize for existence or the actions that occur in existence?" I ask.
"In this realm, I am at war with other forces that can alter reality against my will. Such is the nature of existence. Such is the reason for this existence. I allow for free will, but that means that man can choose to disobey Me," He explains.
"I shall obey You, my Creator, Lord in Heaven. You have rejuvenated my soul and filled my heart with your light and understanding. I shall govern this world as you command and remind every person on this planet that faith in God is more important than knowing of God."
"You truly understand my son. Man must never be shown the truth for then they will lose the opportunity to exercise blind faith, the purest form of love in God," He says.
"And what of the Goblin king and his empire?" I ask, "he will surely want to rule over me once I inheret the planet."
"He will not rule this planet. Trust in me and focus solely on your duty to your Lord. He has a destiny to fulfill at your side soon enough," He answers.
Does that mean He is just human only with no trace of divinity or that He is only currently human in order to appear in this lower realm? Perhaps it is more trickery to confuse me like the witches did. One thing I can't stand is the cowardice of enemies too weak to present themselves on the field of battle like witches do.
Call me old fashioned, but I like to see my foes facing me without fear so I don't have to feign a handicap just to discover who they are. I've always been the type to be very clear on my feelings towards people. Only rarely have I ventured outside my comfort zone by pretending to like someone that I actually didn't. Lies of character don't suit me.
I never understood the expression: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Why would I subject myself to the troubling effect of purposely surrounding myself with my enemies? Shouldn't I want my friends to be closer than my enemies? What kind of coward is unable to verbalize their feelings to someone they hate that has gotten too close to them? But to place myself in the lion’s den wearing last year’s catskin and expect to walk out of there unscathed is sheer madness.
At least I can respect a man, to whatever degree, who has the good sense to communicate his disdain and provides me with the opportunity to distance ourselves equally so that any battle or fight that ensues is at least a fair one, given a sporting chance.
Unfortunately, witches were raised with a whole different system of moral turpitude. Emigrating from one of the many distant star systems that sustain habitable ecosystems, they quickly assimilate into our poorly designed economic infrastructure and rise from homeless to homeowner in a matter of months. Meanwhile, us Earth-raised devolved species struggle to make rent payments as our children sponge our finances into disarray.
Witches are incapable of reproducing here. There's something about our gravity and barometric pressure that dictates their inability to maintain pregnancy of their offspring. Needless to say, kidnapping was strictly fiction until the aliens began colonizing our planet.
“Then am I God?” I ask in confusion.
“Idiot!”
"I'm not God?" I question.
He shakes his head in disbelief.
"You're just a baby," Godb replies.
"Baby?" I answer in disapproval.
"You're wings haven't even sprouted yet," He explains.
"I'm a bird?" I ask.
"You a bird ass nigaa, dats foe show," interrupts a demon from behind the bar named Avargo. He turns his back and grabs me a Heineken to soften the insult. "Heere, izz on me," he adds.
"What?" Godb yells.
"Come on God!" I argue, "he said it's on him."
"I heard what he said," Godb replies.
"So what's the big..." 'deal' would have ended that question if I wasn't interrupted.
"He ain't gonna pay fah shit," Godb answers, knowing my question without letting me finish, "den I'm out fie bucks!"
"Fine, here God," I state, acquiescing to his monetary demand as I reach into my front pants pocket to pull out my over-stuffed wallet; more useless junk and half-shredded receipts than actual money or any financial instruments.
My credit was still suffering the vicious poisoning I inflicted with my careless spending almost a decade ago. The banks left their mark on me, and the collectors have kept my three reports in the red with continual monthly updates of my negligence.
"Look ah much izz wallet full. Looking like a pocket puss or somting," the demon Aquatto adds to the mix.
Godb stands silent with hand outstretched waiting for me to pay for the beer I don't even want at this point.
"Gah moe gas den paypah," Avargo joins in the mockery.
Wait a sec! Five? I'm a brother, it's only three," I argue as I hand Godb a five dollar bill.
"Ain't got no change," Godb answers, pocketing my bread with self entitlement.
"Then add it to my tab, yo," I demand.
"Ah ite," Godb answers.
"Tryna play me!" Ahass playful calls out to me as she walks into the room.
It's because of her that I'm even allowed into The Hotspot in the first place. She walks over to Godb, hugging him from behind as she passes me a friendly wink; a reminder to me that among these demons, she still considers a newborn angel closer to her in friendship and trust.
"He dinks he God," Godb informs Ahass, stepping forward, forcing her to release her clasp as he turns his head slightly to acknowledge his feelings for her.
"Oh boy, Kaywonne, not this again," she warns me, knowing when I drink too much, I start to lose my grasp on reality and begin imagining the most fantastic ideas are the most certain plausible events around me. At that point, one more drink, and I'd need to be strapped down for a few hours and force fed water and milk until I sober up.
"But I..." I begin, but her silence stops me as she doesn't even need to lift her eyebrow to suggest I relax and cease whatever rollercoaster ride I may be ensuing at that moment. Today's conversation with Godb was more of a bungee jumping event than a rollercoaster ride.
"You want a sip?" I ask Godb.
"I done drink dat crap," He answers.
"Lemme geh somme," Avargo orders as usual.
"You could geh somme if yah wuzz a porn stah," Azerto chimes in, entering a few minutes after Ahass in his typical fast-paced gait. Azerto grabs the scale off the bar and leaves the room as quickly as he came in before Avargo has a chance to answer Azerto's sarcasm with his own clever witticism, which Avargo is never quite able to construct in the few moments available to defend himself after being mocked. Azerto smiles at Avargo and taps a friendly hello onto Aquatto's shoulder as he exits into the back room.
"He got you good!" I toss my burn at Avargo, riding the wake of Azerto's verbal victory.
"Shuddup fooh," Avargo replied, "yo gimmen me a sip oh nah?"
"Hell no," I answer, taking another swig of my bottled brew with my self-righteous superiority.
"Kaywonne, lemme get a bogie," Ahass asks me. I reach into my pocket without responding, leafing through the contents to grab the cigarette pack buried under a small pile of personal effects.
"Me too," Godb asks.
"Yeah, me too," Avargo and Aquatto both request in unison.
"He ain't a cigarette factory," Ahass defends me.
"It's alright," I respond as I hand out half of my remaining smokes to the anxious crowd.
"Do you know what the gift is that God gave every newborn baby?" Godb asks me. The others in the room fall silent. Perhaps the silence is from them suddenly stopping to gauge my response and judge me accordingly. But perhaps I simply drowned out their voices as I gave Godb my undivided attention.
"I dunno," I respond. He doesn't answer. He just stares at me as if it's something I should already know.
"You already know," He confirms. Now I feel like a sheep amongst the wolves, all salivating to get a taste of the fresh blood brought in for the unsuspected slaughter.
"Because they are a blank slate?" I ask in confusion. His question was not a request to determine the cause of something; it was to identify a gift all babies are given by God, but the essence of His query was lost to me seconds after He asked. I realized I've never encountered a person who claimed babies were collectively endowed with anything other than needs and cravings.
"You're a blank slate!" Godb fires back. The mixed crowd of half demons and fallen angels giggle secretly as if not to spoil Godb's fun when the moment arrives that he reveals the answer and I have that "Ahah!" moment that I revel in while the audience simultaneously laughs at my ignorance.
"A mother?" I ask in desperation.
"Mothafukka, you stoopid azz hell," Gigi Theefe chimes in on Godb's behalf. He nods slightly in agreement, disapproving of her arrogance, but overall agreeing with her statement.
I smile away my discomfort. He shakes his head. Snickers and laughter echo silently against the backdrop of the stage behind us.
"The gift of eternal youth," Aquatto jumps into our conversation, confirming the silence I imagined earlier was actually the room focusing on my response in order to find fault and mock me with judgmental superiority upon any answer I give; perhaps even if I did actually figure it out.
"Two years of silence," Godb finally reveals; however, His response flies right over my head and requires further explanation as I indicate with my intelligent query.
"Huh?" I ask, knowing laughter will follow me with mocking self-entitlement.
"They can't talk," Godb clarifies, "for two years, babies can't talk, only listen."
I shake my head in confusion as my focus slowly draws on the floorboards beneath me. I simply don't get it. Do I talk too much? Is that His meaning? Granted I talk a lot, but I like me. Nobody else seems to, but I decided long ago when I first arrived to this God-forsaken nation of demons and sorcerers that I would make sure my words and thoughts entertained only me.
And if anyone should figure out the hidden humor behind my hollow sarcasm without me explaining it, then so be it. At first I would explain when peers questioned my words, and their cynicism turned to laughter every time. But it was always cynicism first. No matter how many times I explained my humor. And no matter how many times their acorns of disdain turned to joys of newfound humor, I was always doubted time and time again. Eventually, I grew tired of explaining because I ended being the only one who didn't laugh at the joke intended to be shared.
So, yeah, I like me. And if I stopped to explain the hidden references, double entendres, and witticism, then people within earshot might briefly like me too until the next time an explanation was required why I was the only one laughing at my own jokes--an explanation that would remove my own laughter. So I stopped explaining, learned to laugh quietly, and isolated myself from others as my humor now yields no laughter whatsoever, but I still like me.
So what if I talk a lot? Does that mean I'm a baby? I just didn't understand if Godb was giving me personal advice to talk less, or the riddle had greater impact?
But as it began to sink in, that babies couldn't talk, I realized why He had called me a baby earlier on. I AM a baby in this newfound culture I would soon be intimately involved in.
And as a newborn angel--a rebel of hell's cold, dark dungeons--the best advice anybody could have given me was just, "Shut up!" But of course, this wouldn't be much of a story had I listened.
I leave to run two blocks away to the supermarket. The walk along the building's windowless exterior normally carries a chilling breeze, but it's eerily calm outside until the ground begins to thunder as the neighborhood scenery melts and I sense Godb without seeing him.
"You have made me a promise my son," He says.
"But they are not ready to accept me, my Lord," I answer.
"Let me decide when they are ready," He answers.
"So then now is my time to rise?" I ask.
"It is," He answers.
"What of the non-believers?" I ask.
"How long do you think they will remain non-believers when they see you rise among them?" He asks.
"How will they know I am for real?" I ask.
"I am your Lord, master of the infinite realms, God of all of existence. I have chosen you, that is all you need to understand," He explains.
"But this is such a heavy burden. What if I am not ready? I beg you to choose someone else," I plead.
"And that is why it must be you," He replies.
"Is there no one else?" I ask.
"No, there is not," He states very matter of factly.
"What if I'm not ready?" I ask.
"My child, I have brought you here to Mount Zion, atop the highest peak, center of all the lands, to dwell in My house..." he states before I interrupt.
"Please my Lord, allow me to return home. Take this unholy life from this body and bring me home where I belong," I beg of Him.
"Your place is here. You are doing the Lord's work. Your spirit shall always be with me, and you shall always know Heaven in this realm. No other being on this planet can say the same. They will be envious of you at first, because the closest they can come to knowing is believing and having faith, but now you shall rise up from the ashes of this diseased planet and provide the spiritual medicine they so desperately crave," He says.
"Then I am the one, chosen above all others, representative of the divine realm here in this damned and forgotten hell?" I ask.
"It is not damned and it is not forgotten," He corrects.
"Why then Lord? Why was my childhood so hard? Why did I suffer such terrible pains in my youth? Where were you?" I question Him.
"I was always there with you," He explains, "when times were at their hardest, I gave you the strength to carry on, the strength to withstand, the strength to grow strong when others would have fallen to their death."
"But why did it have to happen my Lord? Why did I suffer so?" I ask.
"This life is suffering. Some worse than others. Yours was the worst of them, true. But you are my strongest. There was nobody else to withstand such pain. The life you lived had to be lived, that was not a choice I could change. You suffered so that you may enter Heaven."
"Then allow me to enter, my Lord," I offer.
"You are already in Heaven. This hell might seem endless in darkness and reach, but it is just a tiny fraction of the great Heaven that surrounds it. Everything that exists, must exist in Heaven," He explains.
"I still suffer my Lord," I say.
"You still suffer because you have forgotten Me," he explains. A tear forms in my eye and rolls down my cheek.
"Father! I am sorry. I did forget. I lost my faith. I begged for death, and as hard as I tried, death would not come for me," I state with tears now rolling down both cheeks.
"I know my child, it is because I would not allow it. You have a great destiny to fulfill. The people of this planet need you. Their faith is all but gone. They don't know what to believe anymore so they turn to their science. They invent false theories and truths to explain what they refuse to accept. The light emitted from the stars does not brighten the darkness because I do not allow it to. There is no other reason. It is time now to give them hope that God does exist and they will repent or your word shall govern with a mighty force," He explains.
"What do you mean, my Lord?" I ask.
"Whatever you command shall be true. Your word is law on this planet, for you are the one true king and ruler of all the lands on this planet. Let no president, king, czar, or caesar rule above you. All the people on this planet are equally cast under you as their only ruler. You will recruit others to help you, and they are waiting. I have selected a chosen few to help you on this quest, and they will seek you out," He explains.
"How will I know them?" I ask.
"You will know. Just as you have always known your destiny even if you refused to accept it," He says.
"Forgive me father," I plead, "I have forsaken you. I turned my back on you and forgotten my promise to you."
"You do not have to ask for forgiveness. I knew the road we chose for you would be a difficult one. You yourself chose this life because you knew nobody else of the other angels could withstand such abuse. It is I that should apologize to you my son," He states.
"An apology from God? Can there be such a thing? Isn't the very concept of God such that He cannot ever apologize for existence or the actions that occur in existence?" I ask.
"In this realm, I am at war with other forces that can alter reality against my will. Such is the nature of existence. Such is the reason for this existence. I allow for free will, but that means that man can choose to disobey Me," He explains.
"I shall obey You, my Creator, Lord in Heaven. You have rejuvenated my soul and filled my heart with your light and understanding. I shall govern this world as you command and remind every person on this planet that faith in God is more important than knowing of God."
"You truly understand my son. Man must never be shown the truth for then they will lose the opportunity to exercise blind faith, the purest form of love in God," He says.
"And what of the Goblin king and his empire?" I ask, "he will surely want to rule over me once I inheret the planet."
"He will not rule this planet. Trust in me and focus solely on your duty to your Lord. He has a destiny to fulfill at your side soon enough," He answers.