Divine Failure
He always sat in the front row in that divinity school in a faraway galaxy. He listened devoutly to the teacher and wrote every word that came out of his mouth. He was a diligent god who memorized all the secrets and tricks of creation by heart, but he lacked talent.
And thus, when he was given all that space after graduation, he took a jab at creating the Sun, just as he’d learned in Genesis. But he created dead stars instead and dumped them into the garbage bin of eternity. After thousands of such dead stars, he finally managed to make the Sun. Then it was time to for the Moon. That exercise produced piles of black holes and disfigured moons still roaming the outskirts of the universe, covering their faces in shame.
A Letter to my Ancestor
Dear Ancestor,
I hope all is well. I am not sure if this letter will find its way to you, because I have no knowledge as to the whereabouts of your bones, that is if anything is left. Nevertheless, I have been conversing with you for years now and arguing in my own language, which surely differs from the system you used to communicate. But nowadays they say that it is necessary to confront enemies and loved ones alike and to find closure.
I have been thinking a great deal about the consequences of what you did and how everything changed afterwards. Therefore, I decided to compose this letter to you. I want to unburden myself. I have so many questions and queries, but I must start with a bone I have been meaning to pick with you. Every now and then they publish something here or there about a new discovery or a theory explaining the monumental decision you and your companions took once upon a century. And the question haunts me: What came over you? Why did you step down from the throne? Why, for God’s sake, did you abandon the trees and their branches? Those steeped in knowledge say that it was the search for sustenance or some grass to chew on. So it was competition and survival which forced you to walk on your two feet (It still aches our backs, by the way) and not wanderlust, as some imagine. Your descendants went on running and running for thousands of years until they reached these caves in whose darkness we are still warring. We have inscribed a great deal on the walls of these caves Grandpa. Ever since then we have been falling into this abyss.
I just wish you had held on tightly to that branch! You would have saved us from all this and I would not have had to write this to you.
Regretfully,
Sinan Antoon