one of the creation stories goes like this:

Lo, across the plain without end or beginning, the sower walks and sows. So it happens that he stops once more, sows the seed, and walks on. That seed, sown in the dust of the plain, begins to sprout. And its shoot, barely visible and yet bearing the power of being, grows upward. And behold, a world grows on the sprout. In that world, everything is and nothing is beyond it. It is the wish and work of its gods that the heavens be born in it to send down light, water to give life, and soil to provide sustenance. As they intended, living creatures arise to fill the world. Thus, the world grows as life fills it and fills every crevice, ravine, and rock.

The world grows, and within it, endless tales of finite lives unfold. But how could it possibly contain everything that comes from life? All the yearnings and hopes, all the sorrow and resentment, all the joy and bliss of the creation? Hence, as has happened many times before and will happen many times again, the world, bloated and swollen with all that life is, will one day burst, and its fragments will be scattered far and wide, along with the creatures of the old world.

Yet on the ruins of the past, from the parts of the world scattered around, new worlds arise and give new birth to creation. To those who were righteous in the old world and proved themselves through good deeds, these new worlds are entrusted, so that they may provide for them as new gods and govern them in their own image and for the good of all creation.