A demigod beholder

These white sharp arrows that rest up there, pointed at every single looker, beholder, wait there patiently waiting for my fall. No eyes, just sharp white gestures, pointed everywhere, only a fool counts them. The hand of god is white with many wrinkles, circular, large, actually massive. I wonder what would happen if it squashes us all one day. An intimidating scene of defiance and rage. I wish I can hold the bull by the horns, but how can I act as a demigod with my feminine human soft hands? I am a human, shoot me. I know you will do so sooner or later. I detest this dark blue scene at night...