''Here are the Gods, Aesir on earth. For an instant their form becomes visible, reproduced in the light. The God is a luminous giant, a Nephilim. We recall the painting of Leonardo, The Annunciation. The angel gazes at the woman of flesh, made from earth, the imprisoned 'she,' chained by the Demiurge and, deep down, he feels nostalgia like a distant echo from Asgard, from the Paradise of HE-SHE. The woman looks at him surprised, with eyes transfixed over an abyss and extending her arms to invite him to share her intimate sorrow, illusory pleasure, of her nothingness, her dream of Maya. And, thus, the Son is born, a Giant, a hero, the Vรฎra. Because the God has entered into this abyss, contaminating his blood, invading the land of the Enemy.
The hero, the Son, is no longer a God, no longer a Divya, but a mixture of God and man. Even as a giant, God does not fit entirely into this body. Even less in the body of a child-giant. What better than this, the growth of the body of a helpless being, to express the drama! He can do nothing for himself, not even walk. Once grown, he will have a few years of maturity before aging and dying, even when in the Golden Age, the Satyayuga, life would last a thousand years. In infancy the boy lacks a conscious 'I' being ruled from outside by a He ('Angel of the Hosts.') This is why the boy does not say: 'I' want to eat, but: 'the boy' wants to eat, 'the boy' is hungry, 'the boy' is cold. He is watching himself from afar.''
โMiguel Serrano: MANU, For The Man To Come
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