for I saw my people wandering hither and thither, restless
and dissatisfied, perplexed by their own errors, and caring nothing for
the love I bore them. Then some of them advanced and began to question
why they had been created, forgetting completely how their lives had
been originally designed by me for happiness, love and wisdom. Then
they accused me of the existence of evil, refusing to see that where
there is light there is also darkness, and that darkness is the rival
force of the Universe, whence cometh silently the Unnamable Oblivion of
Souls. They could not see, my self-willed children, that they had of
their own desire sought the darkness and found it; and now, because it
gloomed above them like a pall, they refused to believe in the light
where still I was loving and striving to attract them still. Yet it was
not all darkness, and I knew that even what there was might be repelled
and cleared away if only my people would turn towards me once more. So
I sent down upon them all possible blessings--some they rejected
angrily, some they snatched at and threw away again, as though they
were poor and trivial--none of them were they thankful for, and none
did they desire to keep. And the darkness above them deepened, while my
anxious pity and love for them increased. For how could I turn
altogether away from them, as long as but a few remembered me? There
were some of these weak children of mine who loved and honoured me so
well that they absorbed some of my light into themselves, and became
heroes, poets, musicians, teachers of high and noble thought, and
unselfish, devoted martyrs for the sake of the reverence they bore me.
There were women pure and sweet, who wore their existence as innocently
as lilies, and who turned to me to seek protection, not for themselves,
but for those they loved. There were little children, whose asking
voices were like waves of delicious music to my being, and for whom I
had a surpassing tenderness. And yet all these were a mere handful
compared to the numbers who denied my existence, and who had wilfully
crushed out and repelled every spark of my essence in themselves. And
as I contemplated this, the voice I had heard at the commencement of my
dream rushed towards me like a mighty wind broken through by thunder:

"DESTROY!"

A great pity and love possessed me. In deep awe, yet solemn
earnestness, I pleaded with that vast commanding voice.

"Bid me not destroy!" I implored. "Command