First he woke, right at dawn,
Galaxy's birth, darkness was gone,
Matter formed, life was born,
He received life, from stars being torn,

In the beginning, pains of birth,
Coming into existence, enormous girth,
The size of a star, majestic and great,
But being so big, was not to his taste,

He made himself small, not knowing how,
Warping the ether, as his will would allow,
His will was supreme, in our small space,
He could make it null, not a single trace,

Why was he like this, omnipotent yet good
He could do anything, if however in the mood,
What gave him this strength, to make life itself
Or to destroy it, but never oneself,

He looked far, and he looked wide,
Yet no other creature, the universe supplied,
He was first, and brazen and strong,
Whatever he did, he could do no wrong,

Yet he felt lonely, bored and sad,
There must be a way, some fun to be had,
"I shall create life", he thought to himself,
"I shall create children, all for myself"

He broke a part, of his astral self,
Put it in matter, just like himself,
Yet his creation, did not move or speak,
Without reason, it was just a meaty freak,

So he took, a part of his mind,
Gave it to the flesh, made it unwind,
The flesh, started resembling him,
By itself, with reason, without any whim.

The mass he called man, was smaller, and weak,
But with his gifts, it started to speak,
How are you, the man asked him then,
"I created you, as the first of all men"

"But if i am first, where are the rest?"
The youngling asking, the maker, as it knew best,
"I shall make more, as you are but not"
"You shall be different, yet from the same lot"


"That would be wonderful" man said with joy,
The maker made more, enjoying his new toy,
Time passed, and the maker created more,
To his children, all his love he swore,

He created land, sky, and water for man,
But man seeing his maker, had a different plan,
Now he had company, children he could love,
But his children grew jealous, their father of,

He was larger, and did not need to feed,
Not need to drink, no dangers to heed,
Man was small, weak and not as wise,
So he asked the maker, to make him likewise,

"I cannot kill me, or create as myself"
A god cannot create one as oneself,
But we want your wisdom, and age and thought
Not to be mortal, and live for naught

The maker grew angry, and thunder came down,
His eternal smile, soon became a frown,
The children insisted he made them his peers
He insisted, yet they did not open their ears,

So he grew more sad, and angry and mad,
Longing for the silence, he once long ago had,
So with a word, he made it all still,
All became blank, at a command of his will,

Now he was alone, and bored again,
Maybe his next project, will not be a bane,
What shal i do now, he once again thought,
All of my previous work, was all for naught.