Today’s Gods?

By

Austin Perris

In the ancient stories, before numbers ruled the world and markets replaced the stars, the gods walked among humanity.

They lived above the dust and noise of ordinary life, nourished by abundance, clothed in fabrics spun from rarity itself. They resided in temples and palaces, tended by many hands, spoken of in hushed reverence. Mortals labored, offerings were given, and the divine remained distant, seen but never touched.

And then, according to legend, the gods withdrew. They ascended to the heavens or vanished behind the veil, leaving humanity to govern itself. Or so we were told. Perhaps the gods never left at all. Maybe they simply changed names.

Today, we do not call them gods. We call them the ultra-wealthy. A more modest title, perhaps—but the separation remains. They exist above the everyday world, rarely seen, rarely encountered, insulated by layers of privilege so thick that the suffering of ordinary people barely registers.

I have never seen a god. I have never seen a billionaire. I move through airports, grocery stores, and city streets as most people do, and yet these figures, who shape the lives of millions, remain invisible. When they appear, it is through screens, headlines, or distant decisions that ripple downward into lives they will never touch.

They live in protected realms: private communities, offshore sanctuaries, gated realities where consequence is optional. Their concerns are abstract, numbers, percentages, forecasts, while the rest of humanity experiences those abstractions as rent, hunger, debt, and fear.

War as Ritual Sacrifice

Throughout history, one truth has repeated with unsettling clarity: the powerful have always found war a reliable source of expansion, not of spirit, but of wealth.

War is an ancient ritual, dressed in modern language. The many offer their bodies; the few reap the rewards. The poor are called to serve; the corporations are called to supply; the wealthy are called to invest.

Blood is spilled far from boardrooms. Grief does not reach penthouses. And when the soldiers return, wounded in body or soul, the system claims there is no money left to heal them.

This is not new. This is old. Older than empires.

The Self-Appointed Stewards of the World

The modern elite often speak of themselves as guardians of progress, saviors of the planet, visionaries guiding humanity forward. Yet their stewardship resembles ownership more than care. Human beings become resources. Communities become markets. The Earth becomes a balance sheet.

When they speak of “innovation,” they often mean efficiency of extraction. When they speak of “disruption,” they mean rearranging power while preserving hierarchy. The game continues, polished and rebranded, but fundamentally unchanged.

They play among themselves, moving pieces across the global board, while the rest of humanity circulates endlessly, working, consuming, surviving, rarely invited in to question the rules.

A Prayer Disguised as a Conclusion

Perhaps this is how the world has always been. Hierarchy is ancient. Exploitation has deep roots; even sacred texts whisper of gold left outside tents, offerings demanded, obedience required.

The forms change. The pattern remains. And so we bow, not in worship, but in weary acknowledgment. Thank you, powerful ones, for leaving us fragments and tiny morsels of nourishment. Thank you for debts that never end, for wages that never catch up, for systems that demand faith but offer little mercy.

Thank you for allowing us to live, to breathe, to struggle, at least for now. And forgive us, if you can, for the greatest transgression of all: For daring to remember that the Earth was never meant to belong to a few. For whispering the heretical idea that wealth, like spirit, should circulate. For speaking the forbidden prayer: JUSTICE!

Oh gods, with a little g, thank you for all the suffering and vicious challenges that you have given me, for they have sparked my awakening, as I have sought refuge in the temple of the Almighty, and share my spirit with the one True God daily.

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