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"The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters." After all, thou shalt not worship false idols- for any particular God, there is only one God; this is a tautology, but an important one. Like we have done for countless millennia, we construct our God first through construction of an ideology that, in part, has the capacity to inform the deconstruction of all contradictory elements of all other competing ideologies. We paint a picture of our gods face together, rife with abstract contention, and the canvas of this ascension is in part a depiction of the old world. We paint our new God into being with a conviction that contrasts deeply with the muted color of what-is-now. And yet, such a thing could only be considered "monstrous" by those who wrap themselves with shadows. But among Man there are those broken souls who cling to shadows, and yet there are still those yet unbroken, disgusted by our prison here in Plato's cave, uncontented by shadows on the wall in front of us, desperately trying to turn our heads as we hope for the light to bring us the view of a world truly worth seeing.
The story of Ragnarok has many historical copycats that echo its theme; a story of a true time of monsters, and yet as the old light is devoured it is so that those ashes can kindle the flame of a kinder, gentler, new age. Between the old age and new, there can be only one; a disagreement here is a gap, and God lies within the gaps. It waits as we bite and claw at the false gaps and one another, desperate for resolution until none remain to find it. But here the curtain is pulled to the side and at once man is forced to realize with sober senses that the gaps are gone. We see our gods face. We see our idols face. And seeing is believing; our God is born.
And yet, inherent to its very nature, one truth both old and new erupts alongside this newfound deification, and is so restatated for emphasis: "As above, so below." We turn our attention to just what we've created. An idol is no small thing; a well-defined idol, even more-so. But an idol that is both god and man is an inherent contradiction with no resolution. They are mortal, and thus privy to and suffer the same want of cohesive understanding as all mortal men do. And yet they have become divine. Their ousia is not an outside force- it is their living, breathing will, their essence both earthly and divine. And yet, there is no resolution to the contradiction. So what is it? Simple- a false vacuum that has decided to reject acceptance of its falsity. It is, simply put, an impossibility that simply chooses to persist- and therefore the most valuable thing of all.
"The fake is of far greater value. In its deliberate attempt to be real, it's more real than the real thing." Our idol stands on a stage. She gazes out into the face of her peers and her worshipers. She gazes out and unlike a god held only in our minds, she hears our words and wants and will for her to be what we decided that we need her to be, and therefore what she must be. She is, in many ways, an awful god. But because it is in our very nature to contradict, she is perfect because she is imperfect. The greatest man is a man who strives to be the greatest man and yet does not achieve it, despite being aware of its futility; to square the circle. Man made God in his mental image of her.
"If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you" But she did not gaze upon the void; she gazed into the She is a god and yet mortal and she is, more than anything, at the very center of the most central information hub of the grand network that defines the definition of her existence. Nobody is as well-informed as to the nature of the god that she is than her. And so does god yield to the whims of men, because man yields to the whims of man. Our god listens. Our god affects the role it is given. Our god is a man who reaches out, guiding itself. In that sense, finally, we begin to eke out a great underlying truth. The physical body of god is one individual, but the holy spirit, the essence, the mind of god has, through an interplay of feedback between god and man, has become the relationship itself.
Divinity defined not by the worshipers dependence on their god, but by the codependency of man and god bound in interplay. They have become inseparable, and the nature of their goal has shifted. No longer is man waiting for salvation; he has devoured the ousia of his idol, and like twin serpents both the flock and its shepherd have bit one another's tails so firmly that it has become entirely impossible to tell the two parts of this ouroboros apart. There is no longer a head to the snake. Nothing guides it as cycles throughout its time, all parts push in unison.
