Rules.

.
.
An accusation.  She really thinks I make them.


I hated them.  Refused them until... until... I surrendered to them.

As my kind does, there was a time when I knew better than to believe in rules.  I was sure there were only men and us.  I knew far better than to believe in men.  And, as to my kinds, I was an atheist.  We, if greater than men, were certainly not gods.  I knew nothing of God, even the concept was unknown.  Oh, well, one hears of such things, just as one hears of unicorns, flying steeds, and fairies.

When... God became not a possibility but a reality, so to rules.  Odd, before that, we had attempted to create rules.  We, at times, claimed to have created the rules.  We had not.  We were merely better at seeing the rules, and following them to their logical next step, until that failed.  Modeling is what that would be called.  From Norse to Inca to Russian pagan to Egyptian.  For a time we could wow the people.

Always, eventually, failure.  For we did not, after all, make the rules.  Which is why, in time, I began to hate the rules.  By the time she met me, I was beginning to renegotiate with the rules, and to track back to the Creator, the one Who crafted the rules.  I began to study the Lord, in part through His rules.

She had a faith, which was where I started.  It quickly became clear that she held that faith not because of rules or the Lord, but because she could ignore both through it.  So, I had to move on.  But I learned the rules, which are ways as often as literal rules.  For example, having a wife still didn't allow for covetous sex, even with her.

Anyway... she still blames me for the rules.  Rules I initially hated as she does.  I cannot make them.  Even when drowning in pride I knew better.  A response and something else, and yet more.  Rules aren't prohibitions, just... better ways.  And, better ways are, actually, breathtaking.



But that doesn't mean...