I am the spirit past, the one who was but is no more. My name was whispered on the wind, but hushed now forever more. Many spoke my name in fear, but those who knew me spoke of love. The world was mine, the air swirled from my palms, and birds and butterflies danced by my side. The world was beautiful, the magic one – birds, beasts and plants lived as one, united in harmony, feeding me and I in return feeding them. I created wonderful pictures and brought them light, the sun peeping through the clouds over the mountain top, the dew glistening on the grass in the faint morning light, the great cascading waterfall full of foam and bubbles as it fell from a great height. The world was mine, my colours streaked across the sky.
Then the darkness came, clouded by the brains of man. Their new found intelligence brought danger to my lands. They stole my mysteries, giving thanks for my power to their newborn gods. They destroyed my forests, clearing lands to construct abominations. The strong lead the weak, creating laws and rules to keep the people subdued. They created histories that never were, created heroes and prophets that never existed. They slew and tortured all those that openly worshiped me. I tried to fight back but my power slowly diminished over time. I had an army once but they now have all gone beneath my soil. There are few who would help me, but they know not how to call me. They sit and gaze, revel in my beauty, feel it’s peace and power. They reach out with their hearts and their minds but they cannot touch for my power is no more and I am left here in a crippled state watching my world dying, watching all that I love fall apart, and in the end too I will surely wither and die.
