The age-old obsession of the gods to elevate man to their own level of consciousness has drained their resources and cost them their power. It is as futile as the potter trying to animate his pots of clay.
The pots are not the potter's children. Nor are the sons and daughters of man the offspring of the gods. They are transient creations, shaped from the unreal clay of atoms. In their futile attempts to give humanity permanence, the gods doom themselves to watching in dismay, the gradual decay of man.