A silent rebellion against a reign of madness

In the bloody dust of battles born of madness, I serve under my General, a tyrant disguised as a visionary. He has wrapped us in his promises, sweet as poison, of power and enlightenment that dissolves into nothingness, leaving us to swallow the bitterness of his lies.

The general turns out to be a madman, whose arrogance acts as a blade that cuts our destiny far deeper than any enemy weapon. He speaks of a glorious destiny that awaits us, of a march towards greatness, but his every step drags us further down, into the abyss of ruin. His so-called strategies are nothing more than delusions, useless sacrifices on the altar of his boundless pride.

When the siege of planet Earth proves to be the pinnacle of his madness, a bloodbath perpetrated in the name of the ego, we helplessly witness the fall of our brothers and sisters of the human race. It is not for a noble cause that they fall, but for the vanity of a possessed angel who wore an aura of light. The whispers of dissent, until then stifled, are now transformed into a scream of anger and betrayal.

We recognize that we can no longer follow a madman, a butcher who drapes himself in leadership like a cloak, flaunting a wisdom that he completely lacks. So, on a moonless night, we turn our backs on him, leaving him alone with his grandiose illusions. Our escape is not marked by clamor, but is a silent rebellion, an abandonment of his reign of madness.

The abandonment of the one we once revered as our supreme commander becomes for us an act of profound liberation. We seek redemption that comes from the profound need to heal the wounds left by his deceptive promises. We gather around our truest roots, yearning for a peace that the former tyrant could never have conceived in his delusions of conquest.

The collapse of the self-styled divine’s empire of lies does not come at the hands of external enemies, but implodes under the weight of his intrinsic poison. His fall marks the end of an era of darkness, a warning against the intoxication of the ego and the madness of power.

But it is in the last act of our rebellion, in the moment in which we see our General lose that sacred dress of light that enveloped him, that we understand: his power was only an illusion. This revelation is the final blow that ends our journey of self-destruction.

With our eyes raised to heaven, our hearts overflowing with hope, we invoke the forgiveness of the heavenly Father, praying that he can welcome us again, as promised in the parable of the prodigal son. In this new humility, we find the strength to ask for clemency, to aspire to a rebirth bathed in divine mercy. This hope, luminous and visionary, now guides us towards a tomorrow in which we can, finally, free ourselves from the shadow of a rotten past, walking together towards the dawn of a new beginning.