Let Us Talk About My Poem/Presentation

My poem was adapted from Popol Vuh: The Mayan Creation Myth, by A. Recino, translated by S.G. Morley, D.Goetz. It's a 74 page book laden with creation myths, myths of heroes, and Mayan history. The creation myth I expressed in my poem is not arranged sequentially in any one spot in the book, but is rather dispersed in chunks throughout. I compressed the chunks into a single cohesive creation myth describing the origin of the world and the origin of man. I've omitted the names of particular deities in hopes of maintaining a universal feel. In addition, they are impossible for me to pronounce with my limited intellect.
I enjoyed all of the myths so far. I am thoroughly impressed with how much time everyone has put into them. I look forward to more on Friday.

-Aaron                                                                    

In illo tempore,

All was in suspense,

Silent and Motionless.

 

No living creatures,

No voices made cry,

No earthly features,

Only water and sky.

 

The creators were in the depths,

All life’s secrets did they hold,

They unified their breaths,

The essence through which life unfolds.

 

Planning Meticulously,

Form given to the sky,

In the face of infinity,

It’s like the blink of an eye.

 

They’re design was in motion,

Life world be formed,

But the work not done,

Until humans were born.

 

Let the waters divide,

Creating a sphere,

Nothing inside,

So the earth can appear.

 

The Unified Voices

Created the earth,

Transcending the womb,

A spoken birth.

 

Next came the animals,

All of the beasts,

Like man but not whole,

 became the source of his feasts.

 

For they were given a gift,

The great gift of speech,

But the gift caused a rift,

With their dissonant screech.

 

They could not invoke,

Praises to their lords,

Each time they spoke,

The absence of words.       

The creators endeavored for more,

Made man out of dirt,

But this first man they bore,

Was shapeless, inert.

 

He next came from wood,

And crawled like a beast,

On four limbs he stood,

An earthly disease.

 

He did not recall,

The source of his life,

Creation would fall,

Because of this strife.

 

So the Makers brought rain,

And flooded the earth,

It would be through pain,

That they remembered their birth.

 

For those who didn’t die,

By choking on water,

They did not gain life,

But died in a slaughter.

 

From dogs and the birds,

Attacks they endured,

Even the non-living,

Joined the massacre.

 

These wooden men,

Became mangled and ugly,

They propelled a descent,

Became ancestors of monkeys.

 

The makers would not stop,

They would not admit defeat,

They’d make man of corn crop,

A plant fashioning meat.

 

These men made of maize,

Born of incantation,

Gave their makers praise,

A perfect creation.

 

But this perfection,

Came at a price,

Wise as their creators,

Pride was their vice.

 

So mist was blown,

Into their eyes,

Obscuring their vision,

To the secrets of life.

 

Now man was done,

A creature with soul,

But without women to bear sons,

He could never be whole.

 

So the gods made a partner,

Fashioned her with care,

Hearts of men she would stir,

So beautiful and fair.

 

This was the origin,

Of a great nation,

Born out of sin,

Like most of creation.