Helpless

January 7 Helplessness: that dull, sick feeling of not being the one at the reins. When did you last feel like that –- and what did you do about it?

I haven’t been called upon in ages. I cannot remember the last time I saw the sun. I languish in my tomb, waiting, waiting. We used to be called upon all the time. Frolicking the Earth like it was a playground made just for us. It wasn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop us. Those were the days. They used to believe in us. Fear us. Desire our power. The modern day, with its lip service faith. No wonder I sit in this darkness, waiting, waiting. I call to the agnostics, the skeptics, the hate-filled believers. Anyone who doesn’t know what they want. Anyone with a grudge. Anyone with a hunger. They do not answer. They hear me as depression, as malice, as greed, as loneliness. They cannot hear my true desire over the cacophony of their own. I want to walk the Earth once more. I want to see it burn.

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