I dreamed that one day I would wake up and the world would wake up with me, I dreamed that one day I would finally be able to breathe in a world that suffocates you until your blue in the face then spits you back out into the world.

I dreamed that there was no such thing as a good thing without a challenge, I dreamed that nothing could ever be taken advantage of because we had to fight for the things we wanted and needed.

I had a dream that once upon a time this world was a truly beautiful place that wasn't manipulated by minds whom only wanted to make it beautiful for themselves that the idea of loving your neighbor stretched farther than the continents, not just down your street.

I had a dream that nothing really mattered because with or without we were all still human beings, all capable of making the same mistakes. I dreamed that the man we hated wasn't a man we COULD hate because we were all capable of being the exact same way and that we were all capable of taking responsibility for this.

One day I woke up into a world that was vastly different from the dreams I would have as a child, a drunken stupor through a world that couldn't understand how even despite all of the things it had done to castrate itself and enslave itself I still believed it could be free.

Perhaps love can never be a shared sentiment but it is one we are capable of producing. So I wonder why, why the exclusivity? Why do we hold ourselves sacred?

And then I remember the violation of the human heart. From when we are children we are coveted and protected from the world as it spins into the madness, forgetting the beauty of the innocence of children. We have forgotten that when we suffocate our children we destroy ourselves and lose the most important thing.

If I could go back in time and make the world a better place it would still have ended up like this.

I can say I'm bitter and spiteful yet here I stand looking out a broken window and hoping that what is out there is not just a freshly paved street and an empty mindset but something more.


So sayeth I, So sayeth Anonolbe.

She looked back on the setting sun, whispering quietly into the nothingness her feelings. She wonders if she speaks a little louder will it make any difference. She wonders why she is so afraid to speak aloud, if only she could know how important her words really are.

A blood red dress ruffles around her knees, she kneels, smoothing it out with her palms. She looks up in wonder, a crowd gathers at the behest of a dead god. Open hands hold out to a sky growing dark.

A man runs by screaming the end of days as the rest simply look up. Dissatisfied look of satisfaction, insanity drifts into the cracks in the sky and what should not have been seen is seen beyond the veil, still she wonders why.

Her neck contract, the muscles constrict around her throat and the words croak out like a dying lion, that the sun still can not hear her, that the life being shattered around her suffocates away her ability to speak.

She whispers words all can hear but none will listen to for the words she speaks are the only thing that matters in this visual ecstasy, a new day is dawning and the lives of every open palm will change for a short while.

And it hails upon the sky as fear shatters the silence. Fires burn the heavens as the sun finally sets, the blood of her dress spilling out to the sky.

"Do not leave. I am blind without you."

To chase the sun is to chase our dreams. Still the skies are sickly red, still we continue on.

And the end of days is just another day in a world filled with those whom prophet dreams.

When her voice returns to her there is no one left to hear her whisper.

I am only a voice in her head.

So sayeth I, so sayeth Anonolbe.

An Atheists' Faith


"You see a man dying, I see a man living until he is free." He looked back to me as he held the dying man's hand.

"How is that freedom? What if you are wrong, what if nothing lies beyond this life? What if death is final? What if this life is the only life we really have?"

Is it so persistent? Is it even common? There are times when fear grips me in a way that forces me to my knees and forces me still. It begs me still and holds me hostage. I have faced so much, I have seen faced death in every nature and nothing beyond that one finality could ever frighten me.

"If death truly is a finality then perhaps that in itself is a freedom." He touched his hand to the small white collar. He was a thinking man, a philosopher but first a priest.

"I wonder what he dreams."

"Of days gone by, his family, the people whom have moved on beyond him, perhaps he dreams of what his life was like, unfiltered."

That we should have only this one life to live, what is there to actually live? We all do so so differently with that same understanding that all we can truly claim for sure is this, right here.

"What is it that you fear so? Would Faith not heal those woes?"

"Faith is an empty sentiment for those looking for an easy answer. Have you no shame that you would worship one whom you can never truly know is there?"

"So then why not simply die? If there is no reason to live and nothing beyond death why not simply die?"

"A strange thing from a priest."

"I did not come because of him, you called me here."

I was silent, I turned to look out the window and saw what appeared an empty sky, dead traffic lights which blinked and flickered away people's freedoms.

"Or is it that you called me because you DO believe but not for you, for him?"

"God can not save anyone, even you."

"I agree. Even Christ could not save you."

It isn't an unusual sentiment but it was the first time I'd heard it from someone who praised such salvation over and over in his small church.

"So why do you proclaim it?"

Because those who seek Faith and give up the illusion of control and power often walk the path themselves. Even if it is the illusion of a God holding their hand it is enough for them to find a better way to...live.

Even an Atheist has faith.