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Birth.
Or simply coming into existence a state of becoming.
It's different for every life form.
There was great darkness and then light. Then darkness again.
In time the only purpose of the mind is to contemplate the very concept of existence itself.
And eventually it boils down to nothing but confusion or just the dark acceptance that it's probably too insignificant to matter.
Most have a purpose. A purpose is your existence. Your purpose is who you are.
For majority of my conciousness i'd contemplate this concept over and over again.
"You cannot complete a simple task how can i trust you to set foot near the pillars?"
My mind is wandering. I'm not listening. I'm aware of this. I don't make any effort to stop it.
"Such a small job, yet you back out so easily"
My eyes meet hers but I'm still not listening. The ring of gold in her irises glimmer when the light hits them. Her face is straight, her stance and walk practiced and stiff.
"Hurry up and learn to be useful! Your wings are precious. You do know what happens if I take them?"
"Yes, Your Grace" monotone, I answer.
"Dismissed"
I watch her depart, her long white robes following her layer under layer. Strings of gold laced through her dark hair.
I can never blame her for scolding me.
My purpose. My wings. Purification. The pillars.
I lift myself from my bowed position on the floor looking upwards at the construction of the great hall. Coated in gold, never to be touched by the concept of time.
My purpose? Purification.
Dressed in black from head to toe I embark upon the earth. Black clothing, black hair, black wings.
I leave a feather behind each time I come across someone grieving a loved one. I leave a feather behind when I have to do something, that deep down I know I don't want to. I leave a feather behind when I see a child that is far from innocent.
It's these little things, that no one truly has control over that make the world the way it is.
The people, the land. All barren. Full of repetitive garbage or simply those waiting for nothingness to come to them.
And that's where I come in. I purify, I cleanse. I give the first blow to push them into the nothingness they desire and learn on their own what they truly wish for.
In short. I harvest the souls of those unhappy and unsatisfied and give them all a fair chance in the afterlife. Purging the sins of those who desire it.
There are many like me. All wearing different variation of the same black suit. I'd say we work for God. But in truth we don't ever get a straight answer about that nor do we ever ask for one. We are made to do one thing.
They call me a black angel.
I do my work and I lay dormant and not much else.
That is my purpose.
As I exit I look upwards at the 7 fountains. Dark water gushing from them at high speed, cascading into the silver clouds of the human world.
I have much to do so I quickly give my wings a big stretch before taking flight.
I oversee my home, the place from which I was created. Large towering buildings suspended high up by grace. Grace.
Golden, sparkling but dark and foreboding. I see other angels the ones made without wings pulling levers with their hands covered in Blue Sand.
I reach the great glass gates that start the pathway to the human world.
Time for work.
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