He said, "Look upon the truth. Focus your sight upon that which is just and good." So I tore out my eyes and reshaped my vision. I saw only what I wished to see. "Listen to all things and hear the truth," He commanded me. I deafened myself. I ripped my ears out and muffled the sounds. I only heard the melody of my selected truths. I created my own sounds and numbed myself to the din of the world. And then He said, "Speak only the truth. Use your voice to spread my joy and my words." In retaliation I cut out my tongue. The only words that fell from my lips were my words, untainted by the stain of Him. I spoke against His words, and refuted His truth. "Love one another," He finally asked of me. So I ripped my heart from my chest and crushed it. I
laughed at the sadness upon His face. With my own voice I denied His truth, my sightless eyes could not see Him, and my deaf ears could not hear His voice. But I could still feel His touch, as He tried to embrace me and offer me His love. I ripped off my skin, shunning His pathetic love. I felt His breath of life within me, so I tore my lungs from my chest, leaving a hollow empty cavity in its place. The empty place within my breast chilled me, so I clothed myself in my own skins. To hide my hollow face I wore many masks. I wore the skin of a lion to make others feel I was brave, the uniform of a general to make them think I was strong,
I wore fine gowns and delicate porcelain masks to appear beautiful. Was this not the truth? If I looked like a lion was I not a lion? I clawed at those who looked too closely at the space in my chest, I swung my general's sword at any who denied my truths, and I quietly tittered from behind my mask at those who had not yet liberated themselves from Him. In my liberation I found my own godhood. My blind eyes saw worlds of my own crafting, my deaf ears heard sonnets composed for my glory, my lips crafted their own truths and any words that fell from them were truths and sprung into being like His own creations. In divorcing myself from Him, I had become my own creation with my own destiny. He did not exist in my world. Only I existed. I saw only myself, heard my own voice, spoke my own words, breathed my own breath, and felt only my own touch. I did not see His sorrow as he mourned my loss. I did not hear His eulogy for my murdered soul that I had left to wither and starve without a heart to nourish it. I
did not feel the path beneath my feet as I entered into the gates of hell. I never even heard Him as He whispered to me, "Thy will be done". | 
