An appropriately piqued imagination creates things which are divine. Or as close as is humanly possible.

A flow that is riveted in place is... toxic. Little blue jean rivets damming up battery acid.

I just don't know that I believe that my consciousness will follow me into the next stage. The one after life. I am irrevocably a part of this system of galaxies, at least for the next several million years. The energies that are concentrated in me, though, they can disperse. Even if there's a God, I don't know that I can take my consciousness with me. But let's not ponder the possibility of God. Enough is said about that.