King of the World
The gods of the universe resided within him. Looking over their domain. Watching over their greatest creation. And hiding from it. He took them all in, all those conflicting, warring faiths. Took them in, believed them, gave them sustenance. He was the king of the world, ruler of all faiths.
People flocked to him. Some to lavish him with adoration, others just to bask in shared glory. All of them greeted him with parts of themselves, throwing away part of their souls on his path. Hoping through him, they could share into his multifaceted divinities. But he moved through the world stoic, maintaining the dignity of his station.
He passed through the masses and they parted for him. Surveying the world from afar, the gods of all humanity looking over their domain with him. Then he comes to rest on his gilded throne. Down the broken lane, behind the broken building, in the broken town, king of the whole world resides. And that’s where I met him.
I bowed my head in adoration, like all who met him. The stench of his filth going back decades invariably leads to wrinkled noses and bowed heads. He was constantly mumbling, talking to all the gods. He often said he believed all the religions of the world. It doesn’t matter if they are right or wrong. They just are. Like the gods just are and all they needed was his faith.
He often shouted out his sermons. And was often greeted with jeers, with trash thrown at him. He went on about ignoring all this, mumbling something about parts of souls. I tried to help him at times, tried to take him away from the abusive crowds. Yet for him, the abusive jeers were adoration of his subjects. I saw him march through the streets, through his own filth and through more the world threw at him.
Always regal, stoic, maintaining the dignity of his station. For us, a mumbling deranged lunatic covered in filth. In reality, the king of the world, carrying the weight of the gods, marching to his throne.
