I am the god of this world. At my will, objects enter and leave existence. There is a chair. The chair is next to a table. On the table is a book. In my absence, these items could not be perceived.
I am the dust of this world. Nothing will ever occur unless I enumerate the occurrence. The first hundred pages of the book are filled with text. The second hundred pages are blank. There are more pages, but, without a description, they are neither filled nor blank.
I am the timepiece of this world. I direct the flow of time for all that I create, but I cannot affect the time that pours forth due to my existence. Time did not exist before I came into existence, and time will cease to exist after I cease to exist. I did not exist before this world came into existence, yet this world did not exist before I came into existence.
I am the shackle of this world. There can be no existent variation from my will. I cannot bring forth beings of any sapience. Their actions and thoughts would all be foreseen, their life and destiny predetermined.