We are but vessels of the creator, within, the culmination.
The culmination of the creators experiment.
How we look, what color, what sex, what nationality, irrelevant.
What we produce is what matters, what we bring to the table.
Has the creator produce genius, or madness?
What’s imprinted into the fabric of spacetime is forever.
How will the ledger balance at the end of things?
Has the creator been successful or an utter failure?
How many times has it all been run before. The puppets will never know.