A Bad Joke

Perhaps we acted too hastily.  Perhaps we should have been more introspective.  The act of creation does have its risks, its unknowable consequences, imposition of infinite imagination.

I circle thousands of feet above the plain looking down upon just one of my domains; one aspect of our making.  The proud and beautiful now carrion.  I will fill of their organs and entrails, though it will not return their howling spirits nor rebuke the horror and abomination.

It was to be a joke, just to add some humor to timelessness, this only creature without a soul.  We watched them from our perches, running ‘round seeking purpose and making up stories to structure what they lacked.  They heard our harsh laugh, oh yes, they heard. They did not understand our shiny metallic black laugh, our omen, our single word.  They perverted it their ignorance, as if we were an ornament on a bust.

So like a child’s tantrum, they strike out and destroy all the splendor about them.  We cackle at these antics but how long can we circle, a murder above a murder?  Complacency is complicity.