The Old Gods knew us well and used us badly. They raped our women to raise heroes, set them against implacable foes to test them or break them at their whim. Mortals suffered titanic struggles as hapless agents in an Empyrean proxy battle. Old Gods commanded temples of stone and inspired epics. We prayed for glory, we prayed for peace. We prayed, at long last, for deliverance from meddling deities. We prayed away the Old Gods.
Fearing to be godless, we found new Gods. We had struck a deal. They asked for little and delivered less. It was divine justice.
Then and now we suffer myriad mundane struggles. The whims of the Old Gods are now the plots of twisted tyrants and the corrupt. These are imitators of gods who crave power without the burden of leadership. Glory is gone. Fantasy substitutes for epics. Temples ask for revenue, not worship. We imitate the Old Gods, badly, as if we were attempting to create ourselves in their image.
We don’t pray for glory. We still pray for peace. We pray for an easier road to travel. We pray for simple survival. Will we stop imitating the Old Gods and recognize the godhood in each of us? Will we finally accept godhood and the responsibility that goes with it?
Can we imitate a better God?
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