The truth of a myth...is not in its words but its patterns.
The uncreated and the dead exist solely in our actual and virtual pasts.
Humans live in a pit of cheating, exploiting, hurting, incarcerating. Every time, the species wastes some part of what it could be. This waste is poisonous.
Beyond the Indian hamlet, upon a forlorn strand, I happened on a trail of recent footprints.
Wars are never cured, they just go into remission for a few years.
So little is actually worthy of belief or disbelief. Better to strive to coexist than seek to disapprove . . .