Hatred

Another time was when we were told not to hate. The day was supposedly good, the night supposedly bad. The light and dark were opposites. But one day they began to blend, our eyes could not adjust to the odd light. We began to grow slowly blind. As we sit in this bland twilight of today our eyes deteriorate by the minute. Sight is a blur. What used to be well defined is almost now unknown to us. We stagger on, unable to see even the footprints we make in the shifting sands beneath our feet. Somewhere above we hear a whirlwind and a tempest brewing, increasing in sound and furry yet symbolizing nothing to us. Shiva begins to dance, we stand transfixed in fear and fascination. Our blindness increases till we are unable to look inward. We forget our souls, and come not to believe in them. They were only a child's dream, we convince ourselves. Now we require "proof" of their existence and our very blindness precludes us from it.

Blindness turns to blackness. We fall to our knees, gasping for breath. The whirlwind descends and the blackness turns to Hate. We devour our neighbors flesh with our teeth to gain strength from their agony. It is our last measure of sustenance. That is Hatred. That is the End.