Immortal Impatience

Walk up to the first mortal you see and demand that they worship you.

Numerous mortals inhabit the overgrown ruins of your temple. Most of them are very small, and none seem capable of speech. You elect to pass over those scurrying about belowground for now, though you can sense their diminutive lives in the rocky soil, and turn towards what you hope to be worthier followers. The first living creature that catches your eye is a small, feathered thing. Smaller in size than the handspan of your former worshippers, it flutters with an energy that creatures of your time lacked. Rather than merely gliding on the winds, it is capable of holding itself aloft as it darts from flower to flower in search of food.

Though small and almost entirely bereft of the rich thoughts that you seek, you decide that its industriousness makes it a fitting first follower. With a booming voice that echoes with the power incarnate which defines your godly form, you demand its obedience in a tone that brooks no opposition. It doesn't seem to understand you and flies away. Perhaps you should find a more intelligent life form.