Standing on the cusp of something great, I could forgive myself for a little bit of pride. When you complete something like this, something so... magnificent - it is difficult to describe the euphoria.
There is death in greatness. It is a sin to become prideful, says the church, but I am not a prideful man - I remembered that guilt in my eight-year old heart at being proud of something I had created, as if it was a crime. Gloria in excelsis deo - and all of it, too.
Well what was man but the image of god, a reflection of the same sins he must have known in his own heart? We are the trillionth iteration of perfection, a search for loss that even men greater than I have never found. So we hold up the mirror: and we are surprised at what we see. Not God, but divinity, of a sort.
So it is okay that I am proud in this moment, as He must have been too when Adam first walked. You can make as many rocks and cats and fish as you would like, build a house or a world or an idea, but it is a pale