Origin Stories

In our myths, the first man is not Adam (in transliteration, Adán).

In our myths, a bird with many colors swooped down from heaven
and pecked on a bamboo growing on the riverbank.

In those myths, the first man and woman stepped out 
of the stalk— one of them strong, one of them beautiful.

In those myths, we were not allowed to imagine which of them
had these traits; in a manner of speaking, these were
assigned at birth.

In our myths, origin stories are a way of giving you a universe
that you did not design.

But in our myths, there is a prior world just under the first
layer of story; if it did not author itself, it must
have been imagined by someone.

In those myths, we are not yet even a speck on the sea
although when you think about it, these are secondary origin
stories— there was already a river, a riverbank, a bamboo tree, 
perhaps one of many in a grove.

In our myths, the gods are many, and fickle, and not
always right. 

In one of those myths, the baker-god tries to get the recipe
right. But first there are experiments. He underbakes, or overbakes,
until the last batch is just right— that one explains the brown
color of our skin. 

In our myths, we are always needing to prove ourselves worthy
of the blessing.

In those myths, goodness wears a certain stance, lives 
by a certain code, has a destiny waiting that it did not 
choose for itself.