The source of every creation myth is human ignorance. Or rather, human dissatisfaction with that ignorance. Stories get made up and begin to define the community that tells them. In time, people start to kill and die over these stories.
That’s the whole circus in a nutshell.
Why do we make up stories? Because not having an explanation is scary. And we come to love that which defeats this fear. In time, we come to see any question against the story as an attack against us. If the story is a lie, then so is our definition of reality.
And if we don’t know what is real, then how do we know we are not mad for believing what we do? And if we are mad, then the person who says we are mad must be sane. And he can’t be sane or good or kind because he just destroyed all that we had.
So we fight. And they fight back.
And nobody wins except in sporadic and limited ways. And the dents that we make in each other’s armours eventually begin to be seen as parts of the design of these armours.
The story changes a little and gets told to a new generation. They begin to define themselves accordingly.
In time, more questions are raised, more fighting erupts, and the stories continue to change, little by little, until they are so different from the original stories that you might as well think of them as entirely different stories.
Old stories are the same as the new stories. Every fight you see happening around you right now is the same as fights fought ages ago. In the far future as well, we will be fighting these same fights.
This war will never end. It has raged ever since we came into being. We are all children of this war. Everyone fights this war. Everyone loses. Everyone wins.