Our Divine Ascent

We are, by all definitions, flawed and limited beings.

Unlike a god who simply exists, an everywhere-but-nowhere and everything-but-nothing, we find ourselves damned to always be nowhere and always be nothing.

Our hands ache of labor, our hearts cry tears of heartbreak and love, our brains robbed of depth.

By all marks, we are nothing. We struggle endlessly until the day we return to the void's embrace, like a child returning to a forgotten childhood home whose name escapes the tongue.

Our nothingness is the site of divinity.

The gods simply exist: capable of divine love, divine knowledge, and divine judgement.

The single mother, her arm broken by her husband, escaped and built a life from nothing. The humiliation of depending on money from strangers. The shame of her child dressing poor. The utterly destructive doom of failing to provide a conventional life to her only son.

Yet through the shame, the grief, the silence of the gods she doubts exist, she walks forward anyways.

The stubborn, brutish scream of life against her humanity. She sits. She toils. For what reason? Even she does not know.

Her ascent against her humanity defies the gravity of reason.

Unlike the gods, she intimately knows the aching strife of being human.

And it is precisely the ascent against her humanity that makes her more divine than even the gods.