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‘Paradise is a person Come into this world’ — Charles Olson   In the darkness of the temple, footsteps are approaching The crashing of iron and stone breaks the reverent silence of the night A group of monks, convened in a cloud of incense, are terrified It’s the Prime Minister, creeping through the corridors and smashing idols—replicas of his very own face—with an axe The politician, Zahmu, has just discovered the fact of his own apotheosis Fearfully, and adoringly, the monks confront their God   ABBOT: How merciful Thou art! How great is Thy glory! [He lowers his head and covers his face with the palm of his hand] My eyes have not the strength to gaze upon the splendour of Thy light   ZAHMU: What is he talking about? A light? My light? It’s all so dark that I can hardly see my hand   The Prime Minister must be unable to see the light emanating from Himself, the monks reason Fulfilling age-old prophesies, the hour of in which God would take His human vessel has begun, whether Zahmu likes it or not ‘Anything is possible,’ the incredulous politician protests, ‘except that I should be a god in spite of myself—without previous notice, even! Why, if I was a vacant room, the landlord’s consent would have to be obtained before I was occupied!’ His deification, Zahmu insists, must be a plot engineered by his rivals to disgrace him—to exile him from politics to the lofty heights of religion For the apostles, however, everything that Zahmu says or does can be explained away as further proof of His divinity ‘Do reconsider the decision,’ Zahmu begs ‘Perhaps it is the Leader of the Opposition who is intended to be the god’ But the monks cannot be shaken from their devotion When Zahmu attempts an escape from the temple, he finds himself surrounded on all sides by throngs of his worshippers —including his own secretary, and the administrators in his cabinet He stands perplexed, despairing of His unusual predicament:   ZAHMU: What have I done that I should be robbed