He bent over his desk and wrote:
“People say there are no gods in this world.
If there is a god,
then I think He must be a writer,
because history was written by Him.
He used history to conceal every truth,
and fate, too,
is written with pen and paper.
Don’t ask me why. Your fate
was written by Him as well.
There are no gods in this world. That’s just a lie told by God.”
He closed the book, stopped writing, and cleared his throat.
“I am the Eastern God.
I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long.
What I mean is,
let there be light.”
And there was light.
