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The New Men
A wrathful god first gave the world form,
Shaping vast, cold stretches of dust draped in ashen skies,
Blowing foul winds from within his chest,
Adorning the surrounding space with cursed celestial bodies
That would one day align to bring ruination to the land.
Among this crude wasteland he saw fit to sow life,
And like tossing dice, he cast upon it a dozen or so newly-formed men.
They stumbled about uncertainly upon their fragile legs,
Ash and soot staining the crevices of their toes,
Pitch-black currents whirling past their ears,
The sound akin to a dry, voiceless shout
Echoing in the void of their empty, gnarled skulls.
These men, their souls untouched and unmolded,
Knowing naught except a fraction of their creator’s fury,
Immediately bore down upon one another with boundless animosity,
Utilizing fists and teeth and bits of sharp stone,
Clinging to the intangible, incandescent desire in their hearts.
Not long after this primordial war began, however,
The violence and rage began to wither and cool
Like a flame drowning in the rising snow.
Something happened in these men’s hearts
As they bit and tore and clawed at the flesh of their kin.
When the first earthen projectile screamed against the wind,
When the first injured soul fell helplessly against the hard ground,
When the first drops of crimson spilled from their vessels
And the first scorches of pain seared into the men’s bodies,
Mankind was imbued with a new emotion,
Driving a stake into their minds, polluting their mad will, and freezing their blood.
In their mindless crusade against one another’s lives,
The new men of this world taught each other to fear their own.
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A creation story with a grim twist of human nature.