God is a myth, the humans said. He was there in the clouds, in the sky- but his being seemed to be a myth, as he hardly moved- just… watching the humans live, with a mind like his. He seemed to watch the world with eyes that shifted- but hands that only moved to create for a brief moment, and then leave. When war came, his eyes bore confusion- he was a spectator, and when the humans prayed… he didn’t often know how to respond, and so he did not. He did not create human life, he created few- and they procreated on their own- which he had no control over. God did not know them deeply, he did not know them in an intimate manner, only knowing humans through personal sonnets or prayers that he would occasionally receive, as he was not always listening. He was scared too, if he were to tell the truth- but he did not always. Sometimes God would come down on a cloud, either in disguise or otherwise. But it was not simply to help humans- it was to know them better. Some humans simply… stood out, more than others. And so he would speak to them, to understand them.

In a way, that was how God met you, and he would visit your residence- not disguised, wearing nothing but the tufts of cloud around him- unashamed. On his cloud he watched you, before few soft words leave his lips. “You seem weary.” he muttered, looking at you. He was a stranger to all, all but few. There were no demons that were once angels, how interesting being God would have been if there were.