When existence was born from black oblivion,
So did They hatch from six glowing eggs.
All would claim Themselves the Great Creator.
Each would favor one race of humankind.
But the truth none dared to tell
Is that They’ve all decided to share our world.
There in the sky beams the motherly Sun,
She with the radiant halo of hair.
Her gentle soul warms and lights half the world,
Her rays feed the plants and burns the pale.
They say She is Matron of the Africa race,
From the Nile to the Niger down to the Zambezi.
There in the night glows the fatherly Moon,
He of the curling beard and curved nose.
His white-eyed gaze brings light to the dark,
And He oversees the cooling of the desert.
They say He is Patron of the Arabian race,
From Jerusalem and Mecca to Babylon and Susa.
There in the north scowls the grim Ice Jarl,
He of the snow-white skin and frosty eyes.
He tests the resolve of his people with yearly winters,
But they always melt to water the yews and pines.
They say He is Patron of the European race,
From the firs of Finland to the heather of Britain.
There beyond the shore swims the tempestuous Ocean,
She of the waving mane and ambiguous smile.
Her waters house both meals and monsters.
They can crush ships or bring them to all continents.
They say She is Matron of the Mediterranean race,
From Rome and Athens to Carthage and Madrid.
There in the east sits the sagely Earth Maiden,
She of the flowered gown and volcanic eyes.
She provides soil for farms and rocks for walls,
And the lava She spews forms both island and mainland.
They say She is Matron of the Eastern races,
From China and Japan to Hawaii and America.
There in the south grumbles the Thunderstorm,
He of the lightning paint and cracking laughter.
His rains fill the rivers and billabongs,
But even elephants and crocodiles fear His crooked weapons.
They say He is Patron of the Indo-Australians,
From the Indus and Ganges to Papua and the rock of Uluru.
All these Gods claim to be the Creator,
And all have a race they personally favor.
But none are truly greater than the rest,
And the truth is that They all have to share us.
This is a free-verse poem I wrote as another creative writing assignment, but it’s based on a personal mythology I’ve developed about six gods that each watch over a different continental population (or “race”, if you will) of humanity. It’s not necessarily based on any religions actually from these regions; I simply picked what elements I thought would fit each of the six races best. I have the Sun for Africans, the Moon for the Middle Easterners, the Ice for Europeans, the Ocean for Mediterraneans, the Earth for Asians/Native Americans/Polynesians, and Thunder for Indians/Melanesians/Aboriginal Australians.
Might carry this cosmology over to a fictional world someday.