What do I fear? Death of course, but in my earthly existence the thing that petrifies me more than any other is the fear of just reproach. If someone unjustly accuses me, then what do I have to fear? If I am punished, I know that I am punished unjustly, and if I am exonerated then I get just what I deserve. But if I am guilty? I am guilty of a great many things, and many of them without even meaning to be. Say, for instance, because I am socially awkward I pass a co-worker in the hall and remain aloof and haughty. I did this meaning no insult to him, only to save myself some discomfort. Yet, he takes it as offense and believes me proud. Or say I have a fault of which I am not even aware. I abide in this fault day after day and year after year. Who will speak of this fault to me? None will, but they will speak of this fault to one another. And I am haunted by this fault, haunted by the fault that I do not even know that I have. How much of my existence is causing harm, avoiding unjust harm from others, and avoiding the just consequences of harms that I have knowingly caused?
For we like to think of ourselves as creators of systems and buildings and civilizations, but we build these things up only to destroy them. We delight in destruction more than in creation, knowing as we do that true creation can only come from the gods. And thus, since we can put forth but a pale imitation of the Divine, we delight in destruction as the only creative thing springing truly from ourselves and ourselves alone.