by Rev. Wm. E. Ashton, ADF
The waters, now freed by the Thunderer’s work,
Caused abundance to blossom, and flowers to perk.
Still, something’s not right, something’s still all a-quirk…
The great cycle had not yet begun.
You see, without death, rebirth cannot be.
The way of the offerings, the way of ghosti,
Did not yet exist -
Sacrifice, it was needed for the Cosmos to be.
It was Mannus and Yemos, divine man and his twin,
Who saw the conundrum that our world was in.
In counsel they spoke, and they both did agree…
An ending must come, that beginning might be.
Yemos spoke first, as this drama unfurled,
“I offer myself for the sake of the world
The privilege is mine. My life do I offer,
Sacrificing myself, and thus filling the coffer.”
With dreadful resolve, it was Mannus, his brother
Who took up the knife. It could be no other.
The words they came natural, his actions precise.
He enacted the deed of the first sacrifice.
With his brother now dead, he divided the body,
With care and with love, his work never shoddy.
For all that will be, these parts will embody.
From his skull came the sky, and his brains made the clouds,
His eyes became stars, never hidden by shrouds.
From his flesh came the soil, and his hair made the plants,
His bones made the rocks, while his brother sung chants.
All Yemos’ blood made the streams and the rivers.
And order was brought by these sacred givers.
The soul of good Yemos rules the land of the dead.
Perhaps we will meet him, when our lives are sped.