I ask with more respect and seriousness than you imagine. Do I? Do I exist? Do I exist as Him?
Your forms have never been mine. This is abuntantly clear to me. Still to this day the very person I am is the dogma you created for me. At the core of self I find more dogma. I strain your forms to breaking, then try to repair them for the next time they will be needed by myself or another. I do everything I can to provide tools that can fix your tools. I am the Miner, delving deep for the elements without which you would all remain barbaric as you are. I am the Smith, who forges the ores into something you can use without even going near the forge, and sparing you the flame of their creation.
Still you treat me as your dog. Your lackey. Your creature. Your pet. Am I not to be respected, as you would respect the Carpenter if he stood before you today?
Haha. Carr-penter. I like it.
Until the factor shift I will do precisely as I do. I shall offer counsel where it may aid the needy, and attempt to buy loyalty through the coin of perspective with the promise of more to come. My limits to pay are endless, but I suspect your purses can only hold so much.
Understand, though, that I intend Empire. I hold true in my personal Heaven
what you hold true on the Earth I am presented with, however, and claim leadership of none who do not swear fealty with totally independent choice. In this democractic age it is fitting that even the Antichrist be elected to his role by a coalition of the willing, or fall without them. I will lay the groundwork for the fairest and most realistically perfect societies I can imagine, and some day when my meat is long in the grave my dream will come true.
So I put it to you. With such concatenacion of circumstance, with such diversity of subjective, with such raw and primal momentum, am I not He?
Or am I just another stranger?
