We Can Know What He Cannot

Watch as the sand falls into that bottomless pit.
And the bottomless pit consuming everything by its darkness until there is nothing left.
There, in that infinite void, one must wait an eternity until.
The merest flicker like a burning ash on the wind.
And from that merest flicker comes everything.

A stranger walks through the desert, appearing as a shadow.

He was somebody once, but he doesn’t remember who. He dosen’t remember anything, really, except how to eat and shit. Oh, and one other thing.

There is a town on the horizon. Really nothing more than a few leaning buildings. There shouldn’t be a town all the way out here. There shouldn’t be anything here.

This is a place for the strange shadow alone.

Music reaches his ears as he draws closer, the notes disjointed and dismantled by the wind. He does not know the song. He looks at the city and wonders: should I walk around it? He doesn’t remember the last time he saw a person.

He doesn’t know if he is a person.

Is he a person?

No. Because we can know what he cannot.

The stranger is Lucifer, slain at his daughter’s hand, reduced at first to nothing, and then reborn into this strange existence.

He is a fallen angel and he is the rising light.

Yet he is pursued; not by man or beast but something different. The Great Dark—Satan—is forever at his heels. And so he moves through this desert. He moves anywhere except backwards. Anywhere except towards that darkness and his memories.

Lucifer turns towards the town.