I saw. I saw it all. The children. The waves. The buildings and the businessmen. Details of the world I had never known to have existed laid out before my eyes. And I saw beyond the physical. I saw love. I could tell who was in love and who they were in love with. I could see the difference in the visions between the love of a father for his son and his mistress and his wife. They were colors, but not colors. There isn't a word for the difference in the visions.
And I saw hate. I saw concentrations of hate in one country that dwarfed others. I saw the depths of hate in that country, but when I looked away from it, I saw something else. Threads of hate rose up around the world as if the core of the Earth was a light source and someone had stuck pin pricks in the surface. This hate looked different. They were strings, extending out from the world, and not the pillar from the country. This was hate that could be overlooked because it belong to a person or a family and not a culture. I looked and saw people like anyone else. They didn't show their hate, but I could see it. Still, they walked through crowds and kept to themselves. It was their hate and they weren't sharing, but I could see.
“This one is yours,” said my creator. “Take care of this world.”
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