Caravaggio Adoration of the Shepherds

Caravaggio Adoration of the ShepherdsAndrea Mantegna Samson and DelilahAndrea Mantegna Adoration of the ShepherdsAndrea Mantegna Adoration of the Magi
In the middle of the night Om awoke. There were noises from Brutha's bed.
Brutha was praying again.
Om listened curiously. He could remember prayers. There had been a lot of them, once. So many that he couldn't make out an individual prayer even if he had felt inclined to, but that didn't matter, because what mattered was the huge cosmic susurration of thousands of praying, believing minds. The words weren't worth listening to, anyway.
Humans! Theyhardly smite anyone with one of those. He had smitten good and hard in his time. Now he could just about walk through water and feed the One.
Brutha's prayer was a piccolo tune in a world of silence.
Om waited until the novice was quiet again and then unfolded his legs and walked out, rocking from side to side, into the dawn.

lived in a world where the grass continued to be green and the sun rose every day and flowers regularly turned into fruit, and what impressed them? Weeping statues. And wine made out of water! A mere quantum-mechanistic tunnel effect, that'd happen anyway if you were prepared to wait zillions of years. As if the turning of sunlight into wine, by means of vines and grapes and time and enzymes, wasn't a thousand times more impressive and happened all the time . . .Well, he couldn't even do the most basic of god tricks now. Thunderbolts with about the same effect as the spark off a cat's fur, and you could
The Ephebians walked through the palace courtyards, surrounding the Omnians