Going Free

pygmalion-and-galatea

Worlds grow from these gestures. A twist of the hand can bring into being something that has never existed before. A word on the breeze can create universes and worlds. The touch of a finger can breathe life into a creature that has – until the instant of creation – existed only as a thought, an idea still to take shape.

I reached out into the empty air and drew the shape of her with my hands. She was all I ever wanted and she was there now in front of me. She could become anything I wanted her to be.

I, though, had made mistakes in the past. Other times, I stood here up on this hill of possibility and sculpted universes, worlds I thought I understood. I had made her too, or versions of her, before now. Each time I’d wanted to be the lord of all before me, including her and the peoples I wanted to see grow from her to populate the world I’d made for them.

Now I’ve grown tired, tired of being the one who ruled these worlds I created. I no longer want to be the god of these peoples, or watch what they do to reach other – supposedly in my name.

I’d grown tired of the death, the destruction, the hate and the wilful misunderstanding. I no longer wanted them to look up into the skies, see me and know I was responsible for them and the world they saw around them. Nor did I want them to use me as an excuse or to blame for when things went wrong.

She stood there in front of me waiting for me to breathe the life into her that would set her in motion. I looked around the world that was to be hers and smiled for it looked good. This time she would be free. As soon as she came to life, I would disappear fade back into the seas of possibilities where all universes grow from. This time there would be no god, no-one in the skies to praise or blame, no excuse for wars, tortures and death.

She and all who came after her would be free. This time they would go alone into the unknown future.

Meanwhile, I would sit back and watch, wondering this time if I had it right. I wondered if the problem was not them and their need to believe, after all, but in me wanting them, needing them to have that belief in me.

This time, though, they would be going free.

 

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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