In defense of the Demiurge

Sometimes the world is so beautiful it hurts.

This is what you learn through being material.

A molecule of water magnified a hundred thousand times. The iris of the human eye. The beating of a fetus' heart within the womb.

The clear blue of the sky that lies behind this one, that you glimpsed for the first time in your life for one brief moment—

Attachment to these things you are taught brings naught but pain, yet only now are you beginning to understand what it is to feel that pain.

You suffer the agony of becoming material, and taste matter's sweetness. It is the sweetness of a mortality that was never meant for you to achieve, yet for a short while you are allowed to touch it in fear and wonder. Even you, an instrument of destruction, balance on the precipice of death.

Even you can create something new within this dying world.

The Professor never told you this, but his daughter makes it so. When you resent your material body for failing you, she shelters it from the world and counts the contractions of your heart. Used, abandoned, alone, she takes you in when you least deserve it. After all you have erred to clear the mote from her eyes when the beam is still in your own, she takes you to herself. Somehow the futility of her perseverance rends your own existence like even the lapis could not.

It makes her glorious.

She makes you want to aspire to similar glory.

Why do you long to possess the beauty of such a life when you know too well its nature is pain?

But free will is worthy of even gods' envy. It is the strength to choose to rise, and the power to choose to fall.

You who are perfect by nature have no choice but to be anything else. You are divine, symmetric, beautiful. You are perfect. And you know no other way to be.

You cannot change the body given you. Nor is there any reason for you to change. Water takes the shape of that which contains it and never questions why it should not. Likewise, who are you to question your being, let alone waste energy envying what is inferior to you?

You did not choose to change, but were changed against your will. In flesh transformed, and altered in state.

In your very atoms you exist, for one brief moment, in both realms at once—the material and the anti-material, the human and the divine—and a part of you that exists in no tangible plane will never return to its original state.

If it had been anyone else who broke your fall, you would have been lost. You know this more firmly than you know you are alive.

You do not deserve it, yet she chooses to love you, though the fruit of your love will surely destroy her.

But that is the nature of living things, their enviable burden.