We all wore the disguises as we mingled around the party. No-one there knew me, although there were many guesses made about the identity of each of the people there, no-one could know, not for certain.
This was lucky for me. I was not invited, not asked to come, even though the party was – ostensibly – in my name.
I have learnt over the years I’ve been coming to these parties that even the priests who act and – supposedly – serve in my name no longer believe in me, if they ever did. As far as I can tell, too, most of them apparently assumed I never existed either.
To them I am just some abstract principle that they use to give authority to their pronouncements and proclamations.
To the ordinary people, who I walk amongst, down in the streets and the markets my name often is taken in vain: a curse against the arbitrary iniquities and calamites an indifferent world forces upon them.
I never wanted to be a god, never particularly wanted to be immortal. Although, omnipotence interested me: even though being all-knowing is not as good as it sounds. It gets a bit dull to be honest. I did think being all-seeing would be good, back in my youthful naivety – now I have seen all I no longer want to look. If I really did all I’m blamed for, then I think the people have a right to curse me and use my name as a curse.
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