Painstakingly, the omnipotent one kneaded and shaped each figure, pausing on occasion to admire His work; fingers deftly molding the eternal clay into a reflection of self, in His likeness, perfect image embodied and aware. His creations multiplied and were many though he also engendered illusion and in a singular, enigmatic way, part of Himself became alone and afraid. Unaware we are God's perfect image, with dualism perceived as reality; what purpose life's bumpy road, why was temporal from eternal made? Should we then give thanks to our God, never questioning life's many absurdities? Repeating over and over ad nauseum, how He works in mysterious ways? A mother cradles her precious child, the essence of unconditional love. But what of God and His children; is His love for them somehow less? For if magically given His powers, who amongst us would not intercede; to end all life's pain and sorrow, do we not deserve the same? Perhaps an answer in point to this paradox not easily solved; is to fairly do unto others as you would have others do unto you. With that thought firmly in place, I sense hypocrisy from Heaven's gate and am inclined to respectfully inquire; "why not follow your own golden rule?"