Gods

I hear the songs of the old gods.
The dead ones that live as scraps of memory.

The ones that cannot be heard over the songs and cries of our new gods. Deseret gods stretched thin as paint across the face of the earth. Gods of whirling metal and electric light who do not even know that they are gods. Things as terrible and transcendant as we can imagine. For that is where they live. Where they are born.

The universe was not crafted by a divine hand. I don't believe in an all powerful creator who crafted the universe. I don't believe in this because it's far too easy. It doesn't require enough imagination. The idea that we exist as a tangles of energy and force from an explosion beyond imagining is so much more beautiful.

We exist because we exist. We have no place in the grand scheme of the universe, because there is no grand scheme. There is only what we create for ourselves, and what we create for our children.

And that's what the gods are. They are constructs of energy and understanding that we created. We made the gods in our image. They affect things by shifting energies. And it only works if we believe in it.

I figure it's the same way that effects on a quantum level change when you observe them. Human observation changes the nature of the thing. It's why I haven't tried to give a scientific defense. I don't think that I could prove it. And I fully acknowledge I just might be crazy.

But I listen to the songs of the old gods.
The ones that sing in my blood and my mind.