One morning, the prophet contemplated the moist caresses of the dew on the intricate branches of the lush grove that decorated the vast meadow that could be seen through the window of his humble room. He exclaimed almost in a whisper:
Dear world, today I want to chant a mea culpa in my name and in the name of all my kind. I recognize that we are and have been since the beginning of our creation harmful creatures, who, like cancerous cells, infest Gaia's body with our disregard for the most basic rules of living in harmony with the rest of the creatures and nature with which we navigate through this lonely infinite space. We are the wayward children of this magical family composed of the lights and shadows of beings, elements, and arboreal meadows that grant us the precious privilege of life through their clean breaths. Despite treasuring the incredible quality of consciousness that allows us to understand the majesty of our own existence, we wallow in the most despicable indifference towards the very life that surrounds us. For us, love means to cherish, to possess the feelings of our equals; we want to be desired regardless of the consequences of such perfidious manipulations. Art is a product subject to the vile commercialism imposed by those who travel the paths of existence, asleep by the greed of paper. Unconditional surrender is a coin that has no value; love is an empty shell that we remove from our paths because we consider it useless.
Dear world, in my name and in the name of all my dear human beings, I ask for your forgiveness in the hope that you will understand our shortcomings. You must know that our sins are our condemnations. I hope that our fall does not drag you and the innocent creatures that inhabit you into the abyss towards which we are inevitably plunging and allow you to exist in the peace and harmony for which you were created.
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