The laughter of the Gods
Without an observer, it all seemed purposeless. And, so the Gods made man and man made his Gods. To be the sole witness of the self, so bored were the Gods. So, they took a part of themselves and created the notion of the other.
And, light went into darkness, man into woman, day into night, ying into yang, laughter into tears, pain into love, failure into success... and it was all good. It was all the same one, witnessing the other through a veil which reminded them of what lay the other side, and they ached for each other, for completion. For how could they exist without the other, and yet how could they be complete without the other? To each, the other was the other.
The dark night chased the rose-pink dawn, the sunset chased the twinkling night, sorrow chased joy, fear chased hope, and man chased his Gods and the Gods were happy as man held space for them. Everything had a purpose now, even the Gods. Forever, there shall be an ache for completion with the notion of the other, with the self in pain whenever it became the sole witness. For if the Gods could not exist on their own, how could what they had created exist without the Gods? They were the same thing, holding the seed of the other in themselves. And, the gods within mankind ached for the Gods outside...
And, the Gods outside ached no more, witnessing the drama of their own selves chasing with themselves and laughed.