Days of Servitude

When it comes, it comes slow. We see the day emerge out from the mists of the dawn to take shape around us. The shapes of the morning emerge out from the shadows and cold mists around us as the sun colours the horizon and then the sky.

We have been waiting for the morning to come, waiting for the sun to chase the night’s darkness away from us. It seems we have spent too long in darkness and now we yearn for the light.

In the darkness those old creatures crawl, stalking us with the fear and loathing of the old dead religions that still haunt our minds long after they should have been forgotten. We know those old gods were nothing but tales told to frighten and cower. We know there are no creatures beyond the ordinary that stalk us through the darker shadows of the night. Still, though, we want this dawn.

We wait; hand in hand, to see the sun rise up over this land and to banish all those old superstitions. We walk these lands now free of that crushing weight of dread that held us down, that made our days into days of servitude towards those invented gods whose arbitrary rules choked the life out of all, whether they wanted the burden of belief or not.

Now we are here, watching the sun rise over our world, feeling the responsibility of being - at least – free from those mental chains that held us captive and in servitude for far too long.