Darkened Dreams

The gods lie dead in the streets

We killed our gods.

They lie there in the gutters, dreaming of the days long forgotten by man.

When the stars were young, and the moon unmarred.

I don't quite know how we killed them, because they're not completely dead yet. Almost, soon they will be forgotten and abandoned. They tell stories to any that will listen, stories of loss and glory and yesteryear battles not fit for young ears.

You can almost see them fade. Some people actually can. I must guess that we must have learned something from them at least, at the last.

But I digress. I'm being forgotten too. But I was never a god. (Nor was I a goddess, but that matters not.) My legacy fades, my journals are all dust. My writings and painting are lost to the meandering crawl of time. Has it been a year of century since my last child died? I alone walk the paths I taught them to find. We killed our gods, and with them ourselves.

For once upon a time, we might have been gods too.

We just forgot how to remember.