The one who watches on those who are watched
My Presence ever ignored, I watch them scurry about like ants in the grass at a picnic.
I watch them at all times, seeing all they do, all they wish hidden, all they wish I would ignore when the time comes.
I see as they try to avoid all mention of me in an effort to forget me, silencing those who proclaim me.
They will never admit it, but they need me.
Already they are falling apart, lost, blind, stumbling in the darkness of their own creation.
But still they insist 'We can see, We are in control, Our god shall reveal all to us, and is never wrong, All other gods are false.'