How to fight Evil? Some say, the Goods and the Angels must rise: only the Sword can triumph, in the Name of all that is Holly. I am no longer so sure. Isn’t the Enemy already among us? Can we still recognise the Fallen one, among the Angels? For he’s an expert of disguise, borrowing beauty and charm when it suits his ends: the ever-changing Joker.
Today he’s everywhere, in the sweet songs, and the laments, in the unctuous speeches of the virtuous. One day, the hateful legion, the next Innocence, in all her nakedness. And the fools to applaud.
Yet, we have been victorious before. All it takes is determination, and clarity. In this world, and beyond.
He doesn’t come to my room often, but it’s always at night. In his presence I sense power and justice, a great calm. Last night, he wanted to know how I was, and when I told him he smiled:
“You have a good few years in front of you, have no fear.”
I asked him about the state of the world, what he, and the others, were doing about it. He laughed.
“We observe. We are not interventionists, as those politicians would say. We keep an eye on the other guy, who appears to have recruited quite a few followers. We are not surprised. His main skill is to instil fear in the minds of humans. We know about it.”
“What can I do?” I asked.
“Be yourself, pray, for we can hear you, any time. Don’t listen to the liars, the cheats, the false prophets, the merchants in the Temple. You know the path. Don’t deviate.”
There was a pause. The great frame stood up, I felt the low sound of powerful wings unfolding, and Saint Michael was gone.
Is this you, running toward me, in the dying light of our star? Is it you, or your double, or your servant? I know it cannot be you, how much I wished it were. But I know: I lost you, eons ago, far away. Tonight I remember, the long voyage, the hopes, the battles. And you, your beauty, your strength, the knight this girl dreamed of. I see you, slaying the devils, archangel in a shiny armour. I see the broken sword.
And now this: a dying star, a dead sea. All hopes lost, so few of us left, waiting for the end, on the glistening sand.
We are at the crossroad, there is no way back, we have to chose: darkness, or greed, or the Truth. If we chose the Truth we will have to fight. If we chose darkness we will be, finally, hunted down like rats – and we’ll deserve it. If we chose greed, we will be billions. And we will die, miserable putrefying ruins, in the middle of our riches.
So, Truth it will be. Then, along this most arduous of all paths, we will have to fight, against darkness, and against greed. The Archangel will guide us. For this fight began long ago.
But for Truth to triumph, over darkness and greed, we will have to sacrifice ourselves, like Him.
The small stream is known to local children, and to the occasional wanderers. For us, I know, it has meaning, one of the places where our spirits shall meet, and remember the past. We once ran over those rocks, splashing each other, in the bright light of Spring. Then, we were happy, we were young, and little did we know about the fate that awaited us. I recall your blond hair, flying in the wind, your little blue dress, your bare feet that seemed to fly over the water.
I remember the day I left, for those far away shores, I remember the sand in the desert, death at every step. I – or rather the poor ghost I became – remember the day I died, alone in a narrow street, in a faraway alien city. I remember not finding you, anywhere, until I visited the small churchyard, not…
After Winter, Spring will come. Remember: our ancestors knew of far worse times, starvation, wars, plague – the real one – when darkness came over the world. They resisted, often silent, always with hope in their heart.
Don’t lose hope: the seeds are there, there will be Spring, goodwill, and peace.