god of an insignificant life form

I am alone. The only sound is that which I create. I am a god of an insignificant life form. The oxygen pushing, expanding my lungs only flows, because I allow it. The rhythm of my heart only beats, because I demand it. But what if I were to turn my back like the other God I once knew? What if I laughed at the heartache, ignored the pleas, slept through the cries? I am, after all, the god of an irrelevant specie. Or what if I disposed of the life I rule, called for sacrifices to atone for the sinful organs, brain, and skin? What is loss when there is nothing to be found?