If god is everything, doesn't that make him evil as well as good?
This is a bit of weird one I think. This came to me when I was reading a Philip K. Dick short story about something similer. This is purly hypothetical and I mean no offence.
If god is in everything and everyone, does that not make him as much an evil malevolent as a divine benevolent?
It just seems to me that evil is as much a thing as good; and something claimed to be everything must surely be both?
Thoughts on this random thought?
Parched Corn in te Dry Tortugas (Three Temptations)
I saw Lucifer in starlight standing elegant and grim;
A slim, conceited bastard in his uniform and boots.
And I watched him get excited as he waved his arms and boasted,
“The world’s a prize to seize for those who have the will.”
And would I be inclined to run for office?
I thought it over quietly,
Politely turned him down
And wondered, was he beaten as a child?
The biggest bullies were once victims themselves.
A lot of little Hitlers have grown up beneath the lash.
His is no temptation; I had loving parents.
And I cannot help but pity his disease.
I observed the young seductress flash her long silken legs;
The skin above her stockings so invitingly smooth.
And she broke the breathy silence as she arched her back and whispered,
“Women dress to be undressed, or so they say in France.”
And would I like to stay and do the honors?
I thought it over quietly,
Glanced down to check my watch
And asked her, “Is your mother waiting up?”
If all I cared about was pleasing myself,
The weight of my desires would be more than I could bear.
And this sweet temptation, she’s some father’s daughter,
As I cannot help but be my Father’s son.
Emotion should be molded by reason
Into something that’s designed to do some good.
No need to fashion a hammer
If the only thing to pound is someone’s heart.
And all you’ve got to do is take one more step,
One more step,
One more step.
All you’ve got to do is take one more step
And one more after that.
I’ve been on this train forever, or at least that’s how it seems.
I’ve traced the buckled strap iron from the highlands to the sea.
And I chuckle in agreement when the club car porter mumbles,
“It’s amateurs who brag about how much they dare to drink.”
And would I care to have another double?
I thought it over quietly,
Sat back to light a smoke
And offered, “It’s a tough profession, friend.”
Inherent weakness or just simple fatigue,
A stumble’s still a stumble; makes no difference how you fall.
But I'll fight temptation till the thirst turns brutal,
Then I cannot help but reach for my reward.