A man sat across from his child- a young boy looking up to him in every sense of the phrase.
"Burn me..." the man said looking down, "...and you will be burned. No flame dances alone, my child. Not you, not me."
The boy sat still, hands folded and head cocked up as he listened. "But flames are bad, dad. Fire is bad."
The man sat before his child. Curious of the root of his insight. "Why do you believe this?"
The big, innocent eyes followed the curious adult before him. "Because, dad, They burn everything. They destroy everything they touch. Fire kills people, too. Even babies. It could even kill me!"
The man delivered a soft smile. "Where there is destruction, there is beauty. Where there is fire, it looks for water."
"I don't know what that means."
Taking his child's hand into his own, he kissed the back of it with love. "Even the gods us huemins pray to cannot create something beautiful without destroying something else. It is life. It is natural."
"But can't the gods change it?"
"I'm not sure, my boy. Throughout time people die and their children live on. That is a form of destruction uncovering beauty. A form of sacrifice."
"Does that make us gods?"
"What do you mean?"
"We create, we destroy, we have powers."
"Yeah," he giggled and jumped up. "I have the power to make mom smile with my dances! And I have the power to make the flowers beautiful in your garden!"
The father gives a gentle laugh as he thought of his child's words.
"But I can also make mom mad when I write on walls or rip her papers. I can make you cry when I am not careful and get hurt."
"Well, my boy, in a way... I guess we are gods of our own."
He smiled and watched as his son's attention turn to the outside where birds gathered in the garden.
"Dad? Can I go see the birds?"
The man nodded. "Yes, Zeus. Don't harm them and be gentle."
He watched as his boy ran out of the doors and to the outside with laughs escaping his lips.