His balance was perfect.
The Tilt knew after the fifth iteration, he had finally completed the perfect balance between the denizens of the Natural Realm and those of the Realms intertwined with it. He could feel their pulse. As those within the Natural used the energy of the Realms, he begin to feel more power than he ever thought possible. It was beautiful from his vantage point. I mean, he created it, of course it was perfect. But for a second, he could feel the harmony, not just see the pattern.
The people cried out to their gods and the Tilt knew those gods received their praise and worship, increasing their strength and in truth, increasing his. He was the steward of it all and while lonely at times, there was a sense of completion. The first four had ended in odd situations, weird occurrences and eventually the annihilation of all life. He actually shuddered at the thought. He had been weak before when some of the iterations he tried didn't work. But that fourth attempt and failure, left him almost dead. He floated, for ages, not even having the energy to try again.
The first iteration was void of color, thought and emotion. It's creation and life lasted but a second as he felt nothing from it's existence, except weakened with no sustainment.
His second iteration consisted of light, multi-colored, pulsing beacons of energy that bounced between himself and the barrier that was his existence. He saw it beautiful at first, chaos but patterned. He saw the patterns repeating and thus predictable. It sustained his power but his mind quickly became wanting. He quickly commanded them to vanish. He was alone; empty, dark and tired.
His third iteration he actually sealed off from his mind. He couldn't remember why. He felt the same emotion every time he tried to remember it, an emotion of betrayal.
His fourth iteration was a disaster. He created life. Beings that followed him, worshiped him, admired him. He desired to see them interact and explore with the various objects he had created throughout the known expanse; they didn't. They were always staring at him and when he commanded them to look away, they did. They never wavered outside his commands, and every command, they took literally. He grew frustrated with these entities that he felt had so much potential, and yet did nothing. This life was supposed to give him company. He slowly began to despise them and felt resentment towards them but most of all himself. He had expended much of his energy in this version. He knew he must start over, but he also knew what it felt like to be weak. He spoke "Be gone." and the expanse wavered and didn't disappear. The entities looked at him, intensely. They....resisted him. He was shocked and then furious. "I said, BE GONE!". They shook and began to disintegrate. As they did, he felt them pull at him, on his essence, to resist his commands and stay. It was excruciating! Never before had he felt pain. Never before had he felt sorrow. He already missed them. He floated there for eons, self-pity washed over him darker than the expanse before him. "If only they had loved each other as much as they had adored me." He thought about that for a while. And then he chose his next words carefully.
The fifth iteration is...