Sometimes I wonder aloud how the world turns.
Cheap-shots to my heart found myself cursing the world and myself. I bottled everything up and overdosed on blotchy sheets and tear-stained skin. Lounging under the sun I focused on the quiet and found that god shunned the world he created because he was ashamed that he wasn't perfect. A faulty silence of corruption. The less fortunate were more perfect than he was. They never created monsters able to live in the light. Man wasn't that powerful.
And man wonders why gods quiet. He's not quiet, just ashamed of his own being presence.
Author notes
Sorry this sucks.
Send me into an asylum with Harsh Critique!
Comments
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Wow, two extremely provocative notions here:
1). That God rejects the world because it reflects the imperfection within him.
2). That our lack of omnipotence makes us more perfect beings than God.
What an amazing philosophy! So novel, yet so robust and profound in its implications. I'm floored.
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