There was once a religious man. He worked at day, and by night went to the altar to pray to his gods. He gave them all they asked for, and he would accept all that they had given him.

For he was a religious man, and he loved his gods.

One day, the jealous god asked of him his ears, and so the religious man took his knife, went to his mirror and painfully cut them out.

He presented them to the altar, and thus the jealous god was happy. The jealous god then gave to him knowledge, plans for humanity, plans that the religious man could not understand. He was but a man, and not a god, after all.

He could not hear others, but this was but an inconvenience. He had knowledge now, a gift, and he would take it. And he loved his gods.

Another day, the callous god asked of him his eyes. And so the religious man took his knife, went to his mirror and painfully cut them out.

He wandered aimlessly until he reached his altar, and thus the callous god was happy. The callous god then gave him joy, curiosity, plans of a world with infinite depth, and the religious man gazed in wonder.

But it was a world so far from him, he would never reach it, or see it. Nor could he see his peers, his house, or himself. But he had wonder now, a gift, and he would take it. And he loved his gods.

And so on another day, the clueless god asked of him his mouth. And so the religious man grasped around for his knife, set it to his lips, and cut out his mouth with much difficulty.

He presented it to the altar, and thus the clueless god was happy. The clueless god then gave him fun, love, and affection, something the religious man could not appreciate. He could not see through love, nor hear the words that appreciated him, and the man could not smile.

But he had love now, a gift, and he would take it. And he loved his gods.

But not really.

...

One day, the jealous god would ask of him his hands. The religious man nodded with what he had left, and went to grasp his knife. But he could only grasp it weakly, for he could not eat without his mouth. He pressed it to his wrist, and tried to saw it off, but could not see where he had cut. He finished slicing one hand to the bone, but found he just could not cut the other.

The jealous god rose in anger and shouted to the man, "Why must you forsake me this way? I have given you all you could have wanted to know, yet you deny me my requests? Surely you follow me, as you do your other gods?"

The callous god said to the man, "Why do you not awe at the things I have shown you? Are they are not to your liking? Surely, you understand me, as you do your other gods?"

The clueless god asked the man, "Why do you deny that love by which I give you? You of all people deserve such love. Surely you care for me, as you do your other gods?"

The religious man rose to explain himself, but found no words. He wept, but shed no tears. He was lost among his gods, and so his gods had silently left him.

For what do gods have to do with someone who has not what they already have?

He gave them all he had, and he had accepted all that they had given him.

For he was a religious man, and he loved his gods.