When you lean on providence as the arbiter of your fortunes, then your fortunes have been decided not by your qualities but by circumstance inherent to your birth.
To be so juvenile as to direct your appreciation for your fortunes externally, and particularly toward the divine, shows a lack of design. You receive of life rather than act as creator.
The ones who slave, the ones who doggedly toil. The ones who see through the grates in the gutter and claw our way to the streets to even begin to walk free of the stench and putrefaction you lay upon us in your most casual activities—we are a Godless lot.
We envy and despise your pursuits. And when we walk through your world, finally, it is frantic. It is frenetic. It is joyful and hateful and ripe with pain and passion and we lay our praise, our worship at our own feet. And we will hear your praise. Again and again.
To belong in your world is to burn inside. With love, with revulsion and with power. Beware when we walk among you, for we will see you bow, yes we shall. Beware of the day when we walk among you en masse. On that day, no God, no karma, no twisted fate will design your fortunes. It will be I and she and he and they, and we shall not be so kind.