Break Up Letter from The Fire God

It was never meant to end this way. We were meant to be an eternal union, but by one way or another, all relationships turn out to be temporary endeavors.

You intrigued me from the start by your ingenuity, your intellect, and your innate desire to surpass your cousins and the other creatures. I’ve always admired that about you. You drew those strange depictions on your cave walls and you created languages and written codes that were exclusive to your species. I knew since then that you were nothing like chimps, or the dinosaurs or the Mastodons. Your behaviors and methods of survival were alien despite the fact that you were also born from this world. You are a spectacular being that even gods like me must stop from time to time to remember that if it weren’t for my supernatural abilities, I, just like the waters that hold your vessels at the harbors, the falling trees of the Amazon Rainforest and the domesticated descendants of the ancient wolves, would have to submit to you and accept whatever purpose you chose for me.

“Love” is merely a word. It cannot describe what I've always felt towards you. There was always a connection between the two of us. When did it start? As shameful as I am to admit, I don't have an accurate answer. Maybe you've noticed me earlier than I realized. Oh, of course you did! You're an intuitive and observant specimen. Do you remember the first time you noticed me? Was it after a thunderbolt striking down a tree? Was it when you noticed the oozing magma that sprouted from a volcano that ignited the sky and polluted the heavens? Maybe it was that time when you decided rubbing sticks and stones on top of a clump of dry grass would make an interesting experiment. Then you saw my sparks, and the grass ignited as an extension of my being rose to life before your eyes. Do you remember how you looked at me when we first met? You don’t have to lie. I remember how your eyes widened at the mere sight of me. You even let me lick your fingertips and caress your hand before you shrieked and pulled it away from me. I apologize for that, even though this was an accident that reoccurs so often. You didn’t even know my power back then. You only just started tying sharp stones to long sticks and called them hunting tools. I guess when, doesn't matter. What matters is what transpired next, and as I said, “love” isn't a word fit enough to describe what we had.

The world had dressed in darkness many times before. She endured the fracturing of her continents and the last ice age that cloaked her skin in sheets of snow and glaciers. The coldness and darkness were recurring visitors in the home of nature, but I was the caretaker who made sure the home wasn't consumed by them for too long. I am the counterpart to the domineering presence of shadows and the relentless cold from winters. I am warmth, illumination and passion incarnate, and when you learned of that aspect of my nature, we became inseparable.

I've lit your caves, warmed your huts, smoked your meat and heated your daily meals to your liking. I’ve watched over you from your candles and lanterns. And then you did something that struck me as odd even to this day. You gave me a name. The "Fire God" was what you called me. I didn’t object or refuse the title. I thought it was a joke or an act of amusement that only your kind would find interest in. But then you settled along the Nile River and called me "Amun Ra" and blessed pyramids and tombs with symbols to honor me. Then there was that time in Sumer when you did the exact same thing only in a different language. In Greece, you made stories and epics about me.Even though many of them were fictitious, they never ceased to flatter me. In South America, you’ve made temples and magnificent stone structures for me. I wasn’t sure what gave you the idea of offering human sacrifices on top of what you’ve already done for me. I didn’t refuse though and I never complained. I guess it was sweet of you to offer one of your own to me every fifty years or so. Although you stopped with the human sacrifices at some point, I tried not to complain. I just knew you would find some other way to express your affection to me, even though I was already a part of your society and everyday life.

After a while, I learned that naming things was essential for you. To you, in order for something to exist, it is crucial to give it a name. What reverence would a mighty hurricane have if it was simply called an ordinary thunderstorm? Things require definitions in your world, and I learned to respect that law. Names are incantations that grant purpose and recognition. You gave me countless names and you worshipped me every time you did. For that, I'm eternally grateful.

Who would've thought the tides would’ve changed when you learned how to electrify cotton fibers in a glass jar? For so long, I've lit the path of your cobblestone streets and the halls in temples of god-kings. Yet, the moment you've made a consensus that the light bulb would be your savior, I noticed a detachment started to grow like a tumor. You’ve learned that you didn’t need to set lamp oil ablaze to see in the night. After you put your light bulbs in your lanterns, you’ve learned that you don't need my presence to avoid the cold, and instead used tools to imitate my gift of heat. Your gas stoves warmed your foods, and you used fossil fuels to power vehicles. Electricity and gas became your new lovers, but I said nothing. I mean, I might’ve checked on you from time to time, not without engulfing a building or two. I don’t appreciate the numerous times you’ve thrown on the hard hats, high boots and assaulted me with the ridiculously long water hose of yours. The loud sirens from the big red trucks are tortuous enough, but you had to blast me with water too?! Gallons of it?! You know how much I hate water, right?

You’ve become more intimate with electricity and gas. You’ve wedded them both and used your brilliance to birth new offspring from your ingenuity. You’ve fallen in love with your phones, even when they lost their tails and made nests in your pockets. Your television emitted lights and colors that I could never conjure. Your vehicles became faster and they even created their own heat without my involvement. Then those beasts grew wings and soared above the air at remarkable altitudes that birds wouldn't dare enter. Yet, last I checked, the upper troposphere is colder than it was at the bottom where your ancestors lived. Let me guess, you have “heaters” on your airplanes too? Yeah, sure babe.

Anyways, I tried to keep out of your affairs as much as I could, which was difficult being a force of nature and all. Yes, I might’ve done some damage in Idaho, the hillsides in southern California and you’ve might’ve heard the news about the bushfires in Australia or the wildfires in other lands. Now you already know that most of those weren’t entirely my fault. I mean, if you toss a cigarette on the ground in the dry season without stomping it out, you know what happens next. It’s my nature to appear where I’m summoned to so I can’t keep apologizing for every tree or house that burns up, or the fuel pipelines that explode or…Wait! This isn’t about me, this is about YOU! You abandoned me! No more worshipping? No new temples? Not a single human sacrifice since how long? Yes, I know I didn’t care for it before, but it’s the thought that counts. Something changed between us and you refused to explain what the catalyst was. I’ll admit that I felt alone, and I wasn’t in my right mind lately. What happened next wasn’t entirely my fault, but as an honorable god I will take some of the blame.

Remember those things you kept tossing around the planet? I forgot what they were called. “Nukes” right? Well, I was there when they dropped and when they did, I just lost control. There was so much power in the impact, and before I knew it, I was swallowing structures and humans and animals over a hundred mile radius. When I was done, bones, ashy bricks and mounds of debris were all that remained. That happened a few times. At first I thought we were about to ignite a new flame, pardon the expression. Apparently, this wasn’t the case.

I decided that the issue between us was that you never viewed me as an equal. You never acknowledged me as a person for obvious reasons. You’ve once regarded me for what I truly am and called me a god but only for a limited time before you reduced me to a tool, a utility that would inevitably be replaced by a better one. To you, I am no different than a wooden cart-wheel being replaced by a glistening rim dressed with a full-tread tire. I decided that I would not be a tool anymore, because I know my worth. So I engulfed more forests and buildings, and laughed while watching you try to put me out. After being extinguished, I would simply regenerate somewhere else, whether it be from an unattended vehicle as a gas pump, or a defective lighter sitting in the hot sun, or a campfire that wasn’t put out properly. This abusive relationship morphed into a charade. It was fun for a while, but then the tides changed for the final time.

Another ice age has arrived. The summers are shorter and indistinguishable from the long winters and chilly autumns. Blizzard seasons that once lasted for weeks, turned into month-long marathons that swallowed towns and cities in snow and ice that would never melt. In the rare instances when it did, it would only invite floods that would drown skyscrapers and turn metropolises into aquatic wastelands that froze weeks later.

Your demands for heat outweighed its abundance, thus your power grid failed and blackouts plummeted cities into a darkness that hadn’t been witnessed since the Stone Age. Stoves, both electrical and gas powered, rendered useless. Cars and trucks were fossilized under the ice and airports refused to allow any aircrafts to depart. Just like infinite times before, the darkness and the cold has returned to the world, only this time, they are making a permanent residence.

I’ve heard that your electricity has ditched you without leaving a notice. She abandoned you suddenly in the middle of the night when you needed her the most. Your gas and fuels weren’t loyal either but even if they were, the cold and the dark are the most resilient forces in the universe. The shadows and coldness that surround the planet from the blackness of space are infinite, but gas and heat are limited. Even the sun that roams the heavens will meet her final revolution at some point.

I will not be there to save you. Not this time. You’ve made it clear that I am obsolete and I’m adhering to that message. You may try to message me. Try rubbing your sticks and stones together and desperately wait for a reply. To be honest, I’m not a fan of the cold either, so if I do reply, it will be a small flicker. If you see that small, orange flicker, I suggest you breathe it to life as soon as you can because that’s the most aid you’ll receive from me. I wouldn’t refuse your sweet breath or a generous offer of chopped wood every now and then, but don’t expect anything long term. ”Love” couldn’t explain what I felt for you at one point, but now it isn’t even worth remaining in my vocabulary. Yet, “hate” isn’t what I feel now either. This separation is long overdue and it’s healthy for me. As for you, I hope you won’t take it personally. You’ve survived before, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you can do it again. With that said, this is farewell. You once warmed my heart, now I wonder what will warm your cave now that I’m gone.

Sincerely,

Fire God, your old flame.