Thanks, it’s been beautiful

I stood on a shore that doesn’t exist, close to home and hundreds of miles from the coast.  It was a beautiful day, the kind were the blue sky swims and swirls white cotton candy clouds gently in a light breeze.  I was standing comfortably unaware of my surroundings not concerned about why my consciousness brought me to imaginary shores.
 
  A crack in the sky opened up and an object not describable by normal description penetrated the slice of heaven in which I stood.  A great white ball slamming towards the ocean and I could only grasp and shrink down into my knees.  A feeling rushed over me knowing that the end had begun yet no fear entered my mind.  I did not see a life flash across but rather a thought shot across the world of my son and my love for him.  The fear of his safety and the acceptance of my own end embraced me.

Too much my surprise the blackness did not swallow me but rather a gift or illusion of time as the deafening blast of the object hitting water.

I had time.

I ran, I ran in the direction of my child.

A voice entered my mind describing the hopelessness of running to reach him and to hold him, to protect him from this wickedness that had assaulted humanity’s pretty blue marble.

I listened not and ran.

I could not fail him.

I would not fail him.

Gods don’t dictate my intentions or my path, only their weavers decide the final score.  Only one outcome suits us all while free will defines oneself.

Be feral.