Robert awoke to find the crystal hand of God had shattered between his fingers overnight.
As the light withdrew from his eyes, he pondered how everything in his life had gone so wrong.
He remembered his favorite Shakespeare quote — “How Sharper than a Serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child” — and he audibly groaned against the weight of his overweening defeats as a father of followers and as a failed a parent to his children.
The losses were mounting.
The faith of the Church was shattering between his fingers.
As the shards of the Lord sliced his hands and the lifeblood dripped from his palms, Robert began to see he’d spent too much time building things instead of inventing people into a true and everlasting faith; the time of his reckoning had arrived.
The complete repudiation of his mission on earth was complete, and marked a vapid failure, and now, only the ground, and his impending ashes, would salve him from the eternal realization that he’d merely led a false and fanciful life.
“The light…” he whispered.
“The Light?” he breathlessly spoketh…
“Darkness.” sayeth the Lord.