There was once a small bird that believed he was god.
He flew over the world observing and choosing small lives to take for sustenance.
He could bring the surface of the world close and he could push it away with subtle movements.
As far as he could tell, he was the most powerful being in existence, and everything was created for him.
Unable to string together complex thoughts due to his lack of language, he had no reason or means to question this.
Nothing had ever been explained to him, and nothing ever would be.
He saw other birds just like him, but he was unaware of their resemblance because he could not see himself.
He could see parts of himself, but even his reflection was a mystery to him.
He was just part of the world.
When he closed his eyes the world ceased to exist until he opened them again.
He once had a mother that was his whole world.
Protecter, feeder, shelter provider, etc.
Just as a king sees his servants as part of the natural order of things, she too was just part of the world that existed solely for him.
His self-absorbed and egocentric point of view wasn’t his fault.
He was lucky enough to not ever get seriously hurt.
Pain was just a small sensory reaction that he was mostly unfamiliar with.
This would soon change, and his bitter fall from godhood would begin.
He was aware of the larger animals and predators.
However he only avoided them because he was driven by his instincts.
This was his world; he knew nothing of threats and had no concept of death.
One day he was soaring over the land in a direction he felt periodically compelled to head in.
The other birds he shared the sky with also felt the same urge to go this direction.
Except for one proud bird with a powerful demeanor and eyes full of reason.
The hawk was heading the opposite direction.
Directly towards the small bird who figured himself a god.
He drew closer and closer, with laser precision in his chosen path.
In an instant that made a single second feel like an eternity, he slashed the birds wing open with his talon.
Blood and feathers were torn from the bird’s frail body.
He indeed was not invulnerable.
The shock and disorienting new feeling of a torn wing leaves the bird effortless in his decline to the earth.
Time slows down and the fall seems to last forever.
The hawk moves on to other prey having failed to grasp the god turned asteroid.
The bird doesn’t understand the harsh truth of what’s happened.
The fall is the feeling of a toppling kingdom that was never truly ruled.
Weakness and shame are more overwhelming than fear of what comes at the end of the fall for the bird.
Everything goes black.
Reality returns in a hyper intense flash of pain.
The bird is half buried in a pile of leaves aching and desperately trying not to move.
Being inside his own body is a torture chamber without escape.
He calms and lies still and the pain is lessened, but does not fully leave.
Hours pass excruciatingly slow and then a whole day is over.
Night brings sleep.
Intermittently though, for the bird cannot control his movements when he sleeps.
The sun returns.
The pain distracted him from hunger but it is now very apparent.
The universe does him one favor and a worm slithers from the leaves in front of him.
The once all powerful god is desperate just to get through the undertaking of moving to have his meal.
He fights through the worst pain imaginable and misses the worm.
He lunges again and inside he feels terror that could only be described as a scream in his mind.
It hurts even to eat but the perseverance will make this the greatest meal of his entire life.
Day after day the bird catches one worm at a time, just in time to fend of starvation.
Slowly the pain begins to subside, and the split wing begins to heal and scab back into one cohesive piece.
The bird still remains an instinct driven creature, devoid of language and the ability to express ideas, but something fundamental and humbling resonates with him.
The world is not his.
Pain and overcoming the terrible hardship of the attack has made this realization a blessing in disguise.
It’s a new world with infinite possibilities.
As he is only a piece of the world, everything else becomes infinitely more beautiful and extraordinary.
His wing heals and he leaves his survival bed of leaves.
He returns to the sky, amongst his fellow birds; in a world that isn’t his.
He is only part of it all.
It’s more than enough for the bird that once thought he was god.