Drama

Faith

Man: There is this idea of you I have which isn’t real. I hold you, suspended in time simply because it is easier and sustaining.

God: I am not just sustenance.

Man: It’s a suspension of myself too.

God: Does that make it better on some way? I have become fantasy alone.

Man: In moments of continual boredom I draw out this image of your face and hold it in front of my own barring out reality; which I find I do not share with you now. The imprints of your features are superimposed over mine and I am lost too.

God: You place my face there. I am only here as you took what was mine, and now I don’t know who to be.

Man: I create enough dreary humanity on my own so you only add to what is within me already. Today I feel the weight of your face. Perhaps I am not, cannot have shape without it.

God: Take whatever shape you want I barely listen.

Man: I don’t believe your face is necessary…no, it drags at my own, scraping the skin from my scalp and down. The features melt or appear to at least. So, I cannot have form with you but nor do I have it without.

God: I don’t care. You know that I do not care. My form is artificial at the best of times though you can have it if you need it, but take form only not personality…. Not…

Man: I shall not forget your love of spectacle, I shall drag your corpse through the streets like a security blanket. People who are gone are easy to idolise and this is how it should be.

God: You fantasise of another.

Man: He is better then you.

God: Fine. But you do not have permission to use my face for someone else…

Man: Someone better. I have so much more use for symbols then I do people. Some days they all feel like walking wounded.

God: I have nothing more to give you. You take my identity simply because you don’t like your own

Man: Yes, but I create perfection from you.

Ellie Rodda