After a long time away, I returned to the land of my people, finding it a lot different than when I left it. I walked along the bank of the sacred river until I came upon a hill. On the hill, the people built a temple in my name. It was grand and beautiful. Built with white marble and gold. Yet the songs and prayers uttered within did not reach my ears. For the temple was hollow, and so was the faith of the people.

Traveling further, I stumbled upon a battlefield, only to discover that the people committed a genocide in my name. It was glorious and bloody, bringing an end to many lives. Yet their efforts were wasted, as they fought not even for themselves, but ideals they didn't understand. For the war was pointless, and so was the suffering of the people.

Deeper still into my ancestral land, I found a statue that the people crafted in my image. It was tall and imposing, a landmark and a wonder of its own. Yet the statue had the face of a man I did not recognize. For the statue was but an imitation, and so were the hopes the people laid upon it.

Finally arriving in the epicenter of my Father's domain, I discovered a system that the people crafted to imitate my purpose. Yet the system was I machine of hate and misery, unlike the message of forgiveness and hope that I spread. For the system was flawed, and so were the people who were a part of it.

They are not ready, I thought. Forgive them father, for they know not what they do.