Messiah

I thought the world fantasized about me. I thought the world was waiting for its Messiah. I thought it stood at the edge of the curb, next to the bus stop, looking at the passengers stepping off, waiting eagerly for my arrival. For the savior, for their savior. I knew not my journey but I recognized my destiny. Arrive — and be loved. Save them — and be immortalized. Strike — strike them before they ache in their bones and tell themselves that you do not exist. Contrary to fact, there is no context for this. I have been sent, and I have been beckoned. Wait for me! Wait for me when love has no name, wait for me when you’re alone in this world, and wait for me when you’re about to step off the cliff. Be my echo, and I will find you tolerable, I will find you pleasant. Noise will creak and silence will commit suicide. And I will be all alone: the Messiah eternal, the Messiah of the Gods, the Messiah unavenged. They will try to flee, but they will fall, and they will miss the one who could have saved them all.