I seek a path, a path which only gets brighter as I tread along it, a path at whose end meets a light, whose rays each coherent with the other, shining in unison at a heavenly piece of abode. Under the realms of this sacred light lies the legendary city that every other strives to be, that every man dreams to dwell in, that every corpse desires to be buried in, Utopia!
Alas, a legend, it remains; for the light is far too bright for my poor but mortal eyes. At the blink of an eye, I am thrown back to the start of my route and yet again, I seek the hallowed path, back to Utopia. In this endeavor, I am not alone; for trapped in this loop with me, are a million solemn souls. Day after day, I take this path, ending up nowhere but back to the start. But it is now time to stop talking in rhyme, for being a Utopian will be, forever, just a dream of mine.
A myth, it is said to be – Utopia, the perfect city, where everyone is perfect, every life is perfect, everything is perfect. Isn’t that what I want? Why am I never satisfied with what I do? Why do we always want more? I want everything perfect – just perfect. That is why I work, that is why I strive to improve incessantly, and that is why I innovate. Ever since the genesis of civilization, man has put in every muscle and sinew, every thought and hour to achieve one and only one thing, perfection. It is the reason a cook makes the same dish more than once, a singer repeatedly sings the same song, a dancer does the same routine over and over again, the software on your phone is updated every year and why I will be correcting this article endlessly. The purpose of man’s life is perfection.
I, with the powers bestowed in me, am going to give you a benison. I am giving you perfection and all I ask of you in return is – an answer. An answer to my question, what do you do now?
Every creator wishes for his creation to be perfect and spends a life time perfecting it but what if he had finally achieved it? What if all that he had ever dreamed of came true? Strip a man of his purpose and what’s left for him to live for? Purpose need not be restricted to man, what about the others? What about the gods?
A long time ago, even before the phrase was coined, long before language existed, before Man set foot on this earth, the place used to be a lot different. The planet was everything that man today wants it to be, it’s what we today would call, Utopia. God made the perfect land which was adorned with stable landscapes, all in symmetry. The beds were perfectly flat with corners that met at sharp angles. Air and water were of a different composition entirely, one in which the molecules were bound, shape, restricted and location, predestined. All features of land came in the same shape and size, no dimension different from the other, no pebble shinier than its ally, no soil more fertile than its neighbor. Everything was equal in God’s eye.
The earth was the same for a million years, beautiful as the day it were born. It is said that every parent finds his child beautiful, I guess it is true, until the parent gets bored of the child that is. God was soon sick of His own creation, He could take the drab no longer. For a million years, He admired his work of art until one day He finally broke and saw through it. Its beauty no longer called to Him. The more He looked at his creation, the emptier He found it to be. Day and night, He would wonder what was missing in His creation, it was perfect but why wasn’t that enough for Him? What could He add to it, what could He do, why did He exist anymore? His own creation consumed Him on the inside and tore His brain apart part by part until one day He woke up a different being.
His eyes had finally opened, finally ready to see what they had been longing for ages. Nightmares are nothing but dreams, He realized, and everyone aches for their dreams to come true, so did God. He finally found the path He had been seeking for; He was enlightened; His destiny clear and all that was left, was for Him to fulfill it. He began to destroy his own creation.
He ripped the land mercilessly from the ground up to make mountains; relieved the molecules of water and air of their positions, snatching their independence away forever. In his anger, he punched the earth as hard as his mighty fist could, leaving massive crevices on the face of the earth; he created trees and cursed the earth with rain to strip the soil of its definite nature and break it down until its original form remained no more. When all was done, he created beings that would constantly annihilate the perfect nature of his creations, which would constantly bring about change in the skeleton of their surroundings. He had done it all but he was still not relieved of his pain. There was a conflict, a conflict between the two personalities in him. One which wanted to see everything around him to be perfect and flawless while the other that was sick and tired of all the monotony in this world. He was aware of which personality he desired and only one thing was left to do of the other. He spawned upon this dreaded planet, one last creation, one which was cursed with his personality of wanting to reach perfection, one in which he saw himself , one which would destined forever to fulfill a lost purpose.
Today, we stand upon this planet still cursed with our duties and the earth constantly drifting away from what once used to be the perfect mass. For a million years, we have been on a quest to find our maker. In vain we shall remain for the truth will be concealed for a million more years; as confusion will plague us in regards to his identity. His soul lurched for peace, that which he has finally found. The God that we search for in him is merely what we see in ourselves; whatever remains of him, we call the devil and his curse, life.
Devil's Advocacy 