The absurdity of god

Every god in every religion appears obsessed with the cycles of creation and destruction, eternally concerned with beginnings and endings. Birth, demise, genesis, apocalypse. Why would immortal, boundless beings dwell upon such fleeting phenomena?

Perhaps the answer reveals more about us than about divinity itself. Gods did not shape humanity in their image; rather, we sculpted gods in ours. In our longing to uncover meaning amid the ephemeral sweep of our existence, we imagined deities consumed by the very experiences that define our lives. Fear, uncertainty, and a foolish hope that we will escape the inevitable.

Reflect upon this. What relevance would transient beings like us hold for entities who inhabit the endless corridors of eternity? From their infinite perspective, we are as brief and insubstantial as fruit flies drifting through a harsh winter. Momentary, fragile, insignificant.

Yet, it is precisely this brevity that compels us to seek stories in the divine, narratives that give resonance to our meaningless existence. Perhaps our greatest human yearning is simply to leave an imprint, however faint, upon the eternal tapestry. Perhaps we need an eternal audience to give us applause as we exit the stage. Alas!