Present and awake and feeling the weight of choice. Perfect specimens, running his finger over each of their foreheads. As his hands drew the fateful indiscriminate line, a wave of subtle stares met his own. Blue, brown, speckled green. Open-eyed souls, poised in hopeful upward glance. 

While he didn’t stop movement, his heart and mind paused. A random act of choice. A divine bestowal, not to be taken lightly. And what was the foundation for his sentence.

The beautiful, the ugly. A sliding aesthetic scale. The faithful, the bad. Judged by their surface smile merit. Potential for growth. Plan for the future. Whom will die best?

It was his ordained moment. Picking the offering. Choosing the lamb. Passed over him, hand on her neck. Feel the skin, is it thick, is it thin? In truth nothing matters. The knife knows no morals. It will kill as required.

Choosing the lamb, generations must do it. And the time is approaching. For you. Too.

Choose your lamb. Offer your lack. Declare your love.

To slash. To bleed. To sacrifice.

Whom will you choose?

He swept the sweat. From their infant foreheads. As he moved down the line. Fresh bodies bent towards prostration before their savior. While this slaughter. Would be his savior.

Which does he sacrifice? Whom does he choose? When there is no one and only, but the flock of the many. When the wandering daughters are drooling before him? Which does he punish? Whom does he spare?

Choosing to love, is choosing to slay. For God so loved.

Choosing your lamb, is choosing your stand. So you must slay.

But whom do you choose?

It is your ordained moment. Picking the offering. Choosing the lamb. Passing over one, grasping at the next. The knife knows no morals. It kills as required. So whom do you choose?

If only. This sacrifice was not a choice.

If only. This sacrifice was the one and only.

If only. God so loved. So that you might not kill another.