Eternal World of Sin

Eternal World of Sin

THE SPIRIT OF MANITOU: John, you wonder who I am? I am John, what you call God, or what the red people call Manitou, the yellow people Buddha, some Allah, while many nations have had many names for me throughout your centuries. Nevertheless, John, your crime is the worst kind. You killed not for pain and sorrow but because you are truly evil. In your people, my flock, there is much evil. Those who disrespect your laws, whether they are children of nature or those like the ones you killed who found beautiful harmony in everything on your world, are condemned without guilt. The red people did not destroy; they only gathered the fruits they needed to live in peace with the nature that was their home, not their possession. But you, your kind, as they call you, know only greed, avarice, and you don't stop until you destroy everything. So it was with your land, the false Statue of Liberty emerged. Killing without mercy. And you are her true son. You killed and destroyed mercilessly for years. But see, your victims forgive you. Now they live in your world, the world your crime sent them to. You wonder what your punishment is? Your punishment is to live in eternal harmony and love with all those whom you relentlessly pursued, trampled, killed, and laughed happily over their bodies, enjoying every moment of their suffering. From now on, this land is your home, this river, these mountains, these forests and the beings on them that walk, they are your eternal brothers and sisters, children, fathers, mothers. But your Beatrice is just a grave beneath that oak around which three black brothers run. Warm yourself when you're cold by the campfire of the caravan, when you're hungry sit beside the red warrior and his family, and when you're thirsty, drink water from this red river. When you have no one to talk to, keep company with that hunched old man by the water, and when you need conversation, there are many villages like Cheyenne, Sioux, Arapaho, Comanche, or the warm home of the wagon and his wife and daughters. When you want to play, join the circle with those three black guys around the oak.

Igor Tintor