Creating a universe with its own culture and its own ways, each level as intricate as the next, and the deeper you look the more beautiful the intricacy, with jazz as much a part of life as breathing and eating, so much so that even the very rhythm of the universe and its electromagnetic waves is based around the tunes of jazz. Is that not beauty? Is that not fascinating? And as I let go and let the creation run free, to see the infinite variety and newness springing forth from the minds of these cats, is that not inspiring? Look at the birds of the air, and their rhythmic singing! Look at the lilies of the field, how they pulse and change color with the beat of the universe! Is this not beautiful? A history stretching back eons, springing to life in an instant, wrapped around and looping about, with time just another string to play a melody with; is this not music and perfection?
I create worlds and fill them with parts of myself, teaching these mortals the idea of greyness, that not all is that seems good is fully good and not all that seems evil is fully evil. Even the enemy may be redeemed, and the worst of circumstances used for good. Do you think I bring forth war and oppression for nothing? All things work together for good, even bad intentions and actions, all being shaped and guided towards the ultimate goal of perfection and harmony. To mortals, certainly, the events I bring forth seem chaotic and incomprehensible, sometimes even cruel, but I would think one such as yourself can step back and see the portrait I am painting with every dab of paint, the story I craft with each stroke of the pen, the sculpture I shape with each painful scrape of the chisel.
From mundane comes forth beauty; from war comes forth wisdom and song and glory and honor; from plague comes forth hope; from death comes forth life. Is this not true beauty? A potter's craft may seem incomprehensible; how can such ugly lumps become a pot, or a sculpture? Yet with each harsh, savage carving, with each squeezing, constricting, suffocating push and shove, the clay is molded into a form of beauty! Can you not see it, Zelos?