a passive god

Now I see everything, and it all adds up to nothing. Before me is all the potential of the universe, and it's hopeless.

From here I see all life, and its beautiful and dying and finite. Burning like a star, and one day they will implode upon themselves. The sweet ambitions of youth are prolonged by the fleetingness of human life, and so the sorrows of age hit them all too suddenly.

Has a finite life bestowed them with a cursed, eternal hunger for more?

Or is it a gracious mercy to save them from finding the truth they seek?