A Greater Meaning to Life

I don’t think this meaninglessness (of life) is a consequence of any action, retroactive or prospective. It couldn’t possibly be the result of something one has not asked for. These horrors, these are the games of the haughty God. We have been suspended in an existential dilute if only to please the creator who watches us drown every day, one miniscule lower, anchored by the same weight that makes us up, being human.

What kind of a father could not go out his way, powerful that he is, creator that he is, god that he is, to prevent the debauchery of humanity and for what? For a life of choices? For a life between good and evil? He must be so vain to create mankind in his own image and likeness through mud if only to order them to worship him and keep his robes pure and white, cataloging as good everything that pleases him and evil everything that does otherwise.

If God is a benevolent father, then he must be incompetent. If he is a competent father, then, surely, he is malevolent. If God was benevolent and competent. If God was benevolent and competent. If only God was benevolent and competent. Or could his negligence and complete incapacity to exalt man from the desolate state they have been brought to bear mean that God is dead?
God is not dead. We have yet to murder him.

An excerpt from a literary attempt.

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