Today’s prompt was to recount a traditional myth. I think this might count? It’s mythy and was fun to write.. The downside is that it’s also lengthy and the formatting is… screwed. WordPress doesn’t like the formatting I had in mind.
Here’s a myth:
There are 10,000 Gods and Goddesses
Both young enough to be born from the sunrise
And old enough to have given rise to the world.
All speak their own truth, hold their own story,
And have lived, lived long, and died or will.
And who cares when the world began
When the wind first blew cold and hastily across the sea.
It was more than 10,000 years ago, I promise,
More than thrice that doubled, we’re sure.
And all books can tell 10,000 lies
And yet find just as many truths,
Seeing through a thousand hundred eyes
Speaking with a hundred thousand mouths
To say one single goodbye.
The World dies but a thousand or so times
With every breath of every beast.
Yet still, the world celebrates and we feast.
And with every tear and trial gone wrong
The World, and us, lay down a song
To ease small pains while they last
Or help them to hurry and wither in the past.
We live beneath the Moon and Sun
And all the shades between moon and sun
While the world in it’s ever changing, ever making,
Rose and gave rise to many, many things:
To the 10,000 things spoken of dearly,
To the 10,000 things spoken of tearily.
This entire time the two-headed snake
Which is twisted upon and facing itself,
To symbolize that nothing ever truly ends nor begins
Spoke of beauty and spoke of terror
In equal and in perfect measure
Word by word, by word beyond words,
Told all of how it knew and what it knew.
The two-headed snake said everything and nothing,
I know, I heard it. Do you?
Existence is such a funny thing,
Odd beyond the point of oddity.
Sometimes, things start from somewhere,
I wrote and I write:
I wrote this and many things before,
Many more things, I can hope, after.
I write to explain, to help, to feel
I write for those in the future
Who need words when they have none.
Let it be said, first and foremost,
There is no universal, universally speaking.
My truth is not your truth.
Your truth is no one’s truth.
My truth is no one’s truth.
Nothing can explain the world,
As of the single lifetime I’ve seen,
In simple clean language.
So I’m not even going to try.
Life is confusing, Death is confusing,
Accept what you can and move on.
Let me show you my truth,
Just a small glimmer of it
To allow you to see and maybe feel
Another world between your eyes
And these words.
Allow yourself to find truth, in another truth
Allow yourself to share your own
And share yourself in turn.
Maybe, the true myth here is not the world
Not the world in how it was created
By you, by me, by them
Maybe this is just the myth of writing
Trying to exist outside yourself
And in the heart of everyone
You’ve never dreamed to meet.