I Noticed a Spider

I noticed a spider. I could crush it on a whim, but does it know? Does it have any idea how close it is to the edge of oblivion? Does it pray to me in vain? Does it long for death? Am I a cruel and distance god withholding divine mercy and threatening arbitrary punishment? Does it wish me dead, spread stories of mighty heroic arachnids who wield poison fangs and bring down barbaric and out of touch gods. How would I know? And how could I decide upon which spider to reign down my spider mercy if I chose to be benevolent? The first? Impatient and impersonal. The best? By what metric? Strength and you risk cruelty. Compassion and then weakness gets too often rewarded. Balance sounds great but from whose perspective and with what restraints? Absolute freedom wastes potential. Absolute control does the same thing.

I noticed the spider and it showed me god.

I hope god can hear me because I’m starting to get how hard the job is. To be interested enough in a creature that you would offer it your attention for a moment, the temporary gift of human consciousness, your divine breath, an awareness of that which is, but that you would also know that you were meant for greater things than this single frail human form can offer. You made me mortal after all. You gave me pain. I may one day forgive you for that. I hope so. I noticed a spider and it showed me god.

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