The Maker

I wasn’t sure if God was still out there, watching down upon the world as the Heavens broke and fell around us. Faith only carries so far. Blasphemy, only a crime against that which exists to punish. For if I speak with such a loose tongue, and have not been smote down, nor have I prayed and been answered; how am I to know my faith is with foundation? And when the Heavens fall, but no Maker with it, is there a Maker at all?

“Show yourself!” I scream at the sky, “For only a coward abandons that which his pride already has!”

And as the world shook, forgotten, and rotten to the core, I wondered if Heaven, too, had long been corrupted.