Goddess at the Dawn of Time

When the Flood had last swept over,
Earth was in the dying throes,
Of an Ice Age cold and bitter,
That for twenty thousand years
Or more, had us on our knees.
Glacial chains had bound the surface,
While the skies were thick with dust,
Steppe and desert ruled the land,
Where the seeds refused to grow,
And in this hostile frigid clime,
Fighting for each step, each meal,
In their tired starving bands,
People - humans, just like us,
Cast among the wilderness,
Upright, thinking, dreaming, more -
Sharing tales of hope and woe,
All had lived, and loved, and lost,
(and their 'lost' was truly lost,
for their bodies, once commended
to the world beyond the living,
must be left, a part of nature,
though their memories and their teachings
could still live in word passed on,
and their children spoke their names,
those names too would be forgotten
with the rumbling on of years);
Nothing new this primal struggle,
Nothing new this fight for life,
Humans ever so endured
Myriads of years of strife,
Thinking, dreaming, ever hoping,
Knowledge passed from life to life,
Tools and shelter, plants and fauna,
All contained in spoken wisdom,
With one single goal: survive!
Now the temperatures were rising,
So those glacial chains would break,
Only to be forged again,
And melt away, and then repeat,
Yet there's hope in climate chaos,
For the doors were opened wide,
Like the mouths of two great rivers,
Of the storehouse of the gods.

When the Flood had then passed over,
Into what had been a plain,
Dry and dusty, came the seekers,
But that plain was dust no more,
Glacial waters carried minerals,
Nourishing the soil and swamp,
Fish and mussels teemed aplenty,
In those waters sweet as sap,
Grains, when planted - wheat and barley,
Strained their ears to the stars.
Here they'd found a place of plenty,
Here they'd found a cause for hope,
For a city, here founded,
Could stand upon the Land, and grow,
Would support a thousand families,
Might support a thousand more,
Put an end to want and hunger,
So those people from the mountains,
Overcome with shock and awe,
Built a little chapel, rooted,
In the silt of waters sweet,
Spoke a little prayer of wonder,
Gave their thanks, and made a niche,
Where they placed a sacred icon,
Of the numinous divine,
That they'd met upon those waters -
His the waters, he their lord -
But their bounty was for sharing,
If it would be shared by all,
They'd met Enki, master craftsman,
Who had crafted many tools,
Gifts and artifacts of splendour,
And he showed them how to bring,
Wealth and plenty from the marshes,
Plough the land and dig the channels,
So vast fields of wheat might grow,
And to use that human spark -
Creative spirit, once begotten -
To improve on what he gave them,
To improve the lot of all,
Ever seeking, ever straining,
Reaching upward to the stars,
His the city that they founded,
His the temple that they kept,
Here where a thousand families,
Be not just fed, but thrive, and grow,
Think and dream, invent and craft,
Make and build, and learn, transact,
Record-keep, and write things down,
That their tales be never lost,
That the names of all their forebears,
Who had come before be kept,
That the days and rites be honoured,
As they're sacred to the gods,
That the calendar be numbered,
That the city run, and well,
These the roots of our endeavours,
Yet we failed to heed the sound,
Of the warning Enki gave us -
If you fail to run it well,
That the poor and rich be equal,
That no-one no more must suffer,
That you let one more go hungry,
While there's plenty all around,
Rot and ruin be your fortune,
And the gods no more will dwell,
In these temples, holy places,
But surrender them to raiders,
All the city's gifts and blessings,
Turn against you, if you fail them.

City founded in the marsh,
Eridu, thy name, will stand,
As a marker of beginnings,
Bounded by that primal sea,
And thy temple in the marshes,
Lit the way for tales to come,
But thy roots, most ancient, must,
In their time give way to dust,
No-one ever knew a kingdom,
Last until the end of time,
While thy people learned and flourished,
Other cities found their places,
Sacred to their own divine,
Opened up their hearts and temples,
That the god which dwelt within them,
Dwelt within them evermore,
And those cities spread and prospered,
In that marshy plain, the edin,
But the fastest growing, bustling,
Teeming, thriving, most exciting,
Host of fifty thousand souls -
Uruk of the Queen of Heaven,
Lady of the storehouse gate,
Swift in passion, lust and fury,
Driving mankind ever on -
Through that city's din and clamour,
Came a swell of innovation,
For the Lady steeped in passion,
Knows the base creative urge,
Of all life on Earth to fashion,
Life anew to hold the torch,
Yet life for life alone lacks meaning,
Growth for growth's own sake does too,
Human is to seek out purpose,
Have a function to fulfill,
So Inana in her wisdom,
Held within her walls and gates,
That they'd have a proper place for,
Every one of every sort,
That the human aspiration,
Never should be dimmed or shunned,
That a city, once united,
To its souls all dedicated,
Where the rods and rings of power,
Mean the poor need never cower,
But the scales of justice hold,
Even though they're stacked with gold,
That with heart and soul united,
'Round the city's home, its shrine,
To that Lady of the storehouse,
In whose womb the fruits did grow,
That would nourish every person,
Who would dwell within her walls.

Hers to sow the seeds of plenty,
Hers to fortify for strife
- for Strife she is, in its function
to arouse and stir up passion -
Strife the force that's found in nature,
Strife the age old plaintive call,
Hers the ancient contradictions
of the violent naked state
of nature, that the first
two hundred thousand years
of our fabled human story
would be lived, but never written,
But these distant primal forces,
Could be harnessed, made our own,
Hers the voice that made it happen,
For in passion's grip, there's fury,
And in fury, dedication,
Many were the tragic losses,
Of an Earth we'll never know,
But in wildest nature's fury,
Opened she another door,
To ignite our human nature,
Giving form to Fury's frenzy,
And Uruk began to grow,
Like no city had before it,
Both in souls and wise endeavour,
Where with stone and bronze and copper,
With the plough and with the hoe,
Where with countless beads and trinkets,
Cloth and leather, beer and wine,
Rearranged the city's people,
All the Earth they saw around them,
Tapping into Nature's power,
That it threatened them no more,
Shared the people in their plenty,
Shared their plenty with their Queen,
Precious stones and metals, taken
From the corners of Creation,
Gold and silver, vibrant lapis,
Chlorite, quartz of every kind,
Rough and polished, set adornments,
All were heaped within her walls,
In the courtyard of her temples,
In the people's adoration,
Of the Lady who'd bequeathed them,
Room to plant their firm foundations,
Room to reach out for the stars,
But she bade them all a warning -
"All the Earth is yours to quarry,
Farm and hunt and build upon,
Work the wonders of Creation,
Into new more wondrous form,
And in payment for your labours,
Every single thing you make,
Every step of innovation,
Every scrap of knowledge found,
You may keep and work upon them,
Ever more, and as you do,
You will see your burdens lessen,
For the building blocks of matter,
That you hold within your hands,
If you keep and use them well,
Are a mighty force for conquest,
Over scarcity and want,
But the Earth is in the balance,
Of the order of the gods,
Order that the Land may flourish,
That the strong and rich be tempered,
When they thrive, and call for more,
Order that, within my boundaries,
Never will you close your heart,
To a fellow human's struggle,
For the civilising art,
Is to bring out from the shadows,
Both for joy in times of plenty,
And to last when times are hard,
If you close your eyes and ears,
To the words you find inscribed,
Telling of the life and passions,
Written in another heart,
If you rule the Earth with folly,
Build for sake of fame and money,
While around you, lamentation,
Marks the people's desolation,
Then your lot will be destruction.
Mine to share the human story,
Mine to share in death or glory,
Mine the pleasure and the downfall,
Mine the quest for life eternal,
So remember where you came from,
Lest you find it might reclaim you."

Paradise could not be founded,
Nor that primal fight surpassed,
Hunger, plague and raiding hordes,
Threatened yet the city's life,
So the cities turned to conflict,
Drew their borders and their arms,
Vied for glory, conquered kingship,
While their fortunes waxed and waned,
Cities grew, and fell, and while
Some were razed and salted down,
Others fell before another,
Taken over, conquered, held,
So the city's precious cargo,
No more would sustain itself,
But would go to grow another,
Which would be an empire's seat.
Great reformers, centralisers,
Won their lot in gore and death,
For to build administration,
Suited for an empire's dream,
And to build your dreams of glory,
Ring one city's lot with ten,
Is to crush the ten beneath you,
So your plan succeeds their own.
So the city must give way,
To a strong and central state,
And those plazas in the temples,
Walked by wealth and lack alike,
Now be newly given over,
To the state, as was its right,
Thus the glory of the empire,
Stood above the needs of man,
But the empires never lasted,
No king does, and no state can,
State and kingdom rise and ruin,
Rise and ruin, rise again,
Every time in war and terror,
Every time to fall again,
Till they fell, and rose no more,
For they'd fallen to invaders,
From beyond, to east, and west,
For this plain looked rather lovely,
And the kings who dwelt beyond,
Thought they'd have it for their glory,
But the glory of their spirits,
Not prestige of common folk,
Here the seeds had first been planted,
Here they'd never grow again,
And the shifting of the kingdoms,
Buried Ur beneath the sands,
Eridu and holy Nippur,
Uruk of the Queen of all,
Lay for countless generations,
Yet entombed beneath those sands.

Yet Inana, in her splendour,
Was not bound within those walls,
For the ancient world was teeming,
With a vibrant wealth and trade,
When those merchants swapped their trinkets,
They had also shared their tales,
So compelling was Inana,
That her worship posed a threat,
To the ancient kings and courts,
Yet gave meaning to the people,
For their national gods she charmed,
And she'd brought her sacred art,
Yes, she conquered, just as they did,
But her conquests of the heart,
Were to keep her age old memory,
Ever known where people sought,
Meaning, knowledge, understanding,
Refuge from the cruelest hearts,
Be they kingly, bent on glory,
Making laws that set up walls,
Split the people from their neighbours,
Cast outsiders into darkness,
Yet in shrines the known world over,
Was a refuge to be found,
For the outcast, hurt and starving,
Now renewed, and healed, transformed,
Given knowledge of their power,
Learned the truth within their hearts,
And Inana, so beguiling,
In her countless local forms,
Won the worship of the people,
And the hearts of national gods,
But an outcry struck the rulers,
For this sacred female art,
Of a nature most enchanting,
Stood against a tale they'd written,
Of a god of men, of wars,
So Inana was the holdout,
As the gods subsumed their own,
All the functions had been lifted,
Into one, atop, alone,
Only one was due the worship,
Only one was due the praise,
Of the cities of the edin,
Man, the king, the god alone,
Yet each petty state and nation,
Had their god, their king, their own,
And encoded in their squabbles,
With each other, and their aims,
Of conquest were the powers,
Of their gods, for power alone,
By the rivers, as in Rome.

When in Rome, the Roman gods,
Saw their powers had expanded,
Just as far as conquest took them,
And their fates began declining,
In a stroke, their land was chaos,
Rome had grown beyond its walls,
Far to rise, and far to fall,
So the fall subsumed all Europe,
Conquered Libya, Asia Minor,
Yet in Palestina's borders,
Dwelt a people so opposed,
To the thought of rule by Romans,
That they rose, and fought, and rose again,
Pacified yet not compliant,
Looked for answers in their god -
If their god is god of all,
And there's Romans at the walls,
And the temple's ground to dust,
Then their god had caused the fall,
Of the temple, and soon of Rome -
So they sought a new messiah,
Who would bid them break their chains,
For they were a martial people,
Who had conquered in their turn,
But the new messiah's movement,
Brought them missionary zeal,
Some refused it, kept their old ways,
But the dragon's teeth they'd sown,
Grew beyond them, plied the trade routes,
Overwhelmed this failing state,
In the waning days of power,
So the state was then converted,
But its creaking aching framework,
Had a couple hundred years, or less,
Then crumbled, while it left,
The Church that wore its pallid image,
To dictate another age,
Set the morals, crown the kings,
Now the states belonged to mortals,
And the kings belonged to Rome,
But the Roman church, in memory,
Of the empire whence it spawned,
Overstretched its reach and power,
So its hold on thought would break,
Fought to save itself in fire,
Witch and Cathar burned alike,
But the genie, once unbottled,
Never could return to Rome,
So then Luther's Reformation,
Renaissance, enlightened man,
Couldn't save the Christian order,
Once exposed, then doomed to fray,
Pulled itself apart in schism,
While the Christian pioneers,
Piled the memories of the ages,
On a global funeral pyre.

Now the world was truly global,
And its horrors global too,
And the states that formed were rotting,
From the moment of their birth,
For the system that they dwelt in,
Made them rotten one and all,
Now a brand new age of reason,
Was declared upon the Earth,
Where enlightened liberation,
Would become the lot of all,
But they kept the power systems,
And they kept the lords and kings,
Kept the money flowing upwards,
As they looked towards the future
And forgot about the past,
Hearkened back to Greeks and Romans,
Whence they saw the dawn of time,
But the memories misbegotten,
Showed a world of whitest marble,
That had never come to pass,
But the human spirit calls us,
Ever to unveil the truth,
So through times of war and plunder,
Came a few intrepid souls,
Blew away the sands of aeons,
Gazed upon an ancient ruin,
Found the long forgotten cities,
Learned their names, their ways and tales,
Pieced together tiny fragments,
Strove to learn and understand,
Who had built those mighty cities,
Who had wrote those ancient tales,
Who the Greeks had learned the arts from,
Where they'd learned it from themselves,
For some men of Christian learning,
Thought they'd prove the Bible tale,
But the stories they'd uncovered,
Far predated Bible lore,
And in fact they showed the workings,
Whence the Bible tales had sprung,
And the Bible's Queen of Heaven,
In these texts was known by name,
Though those scholars couldn't know it,
Though the Bible's claims they'd guard,
They'd unveiled the distant relics,
That would make our stories true,
They had given rhyme and reason,
To a calling that was lost,
In the rubble of the ages,
And the words the Goddess spoke,
Could be heard across the years -
Not just heard but felt and lived,
And the first who heard that calling,
In a new and different world,
Saw their lives transformed before them,
Learned another way to live,
Learned the rites and lamentations,
Sung the hymns that once were lost,
Pledged Inana's ancient wisdom,
Never shall be lost again,
Strove to build a new foundation,
That her tale would find a place,
In the hearts of plaintive seekers,
With a quest without a name,
That for those within the shadows,
She'd ignite a sense of self,
Give a purpose and a reason,
Give a grounding in her truth,
As in times now long forgotten,
That her radiance most enticing,
Stands, a beacon from the heavens,
To the Earth, that all might wonder.

Here we stand in times of plenty,
Far beyond those ancient dreams,
Land and food and bread abundant,
But the wars and strife roll on.
Here we stand, and in our pockets,
All of our creative records,
All of science, every method,
May be viewed at our command.
There we stood, upon the moon,
And claimed it for mankind in peace,
Ringed the Earth in all our wires,
Rails and roads and shipping lanes,
Yet the huddled starving billions,
Labour for another's gain,
Yet for all our conquered powers,
All the world is cast in shame,
That although we've won abundance,
Struggle is the fate of most.
But we've access to the fragments,
Of the wisdom lost before us,
And our quest has come full circle,
And we hear the ancient call,
Of the Goddess who was with us,
As our species learned to crawl,
Who has seen the towns and cities,
And the nations rise and fall,
Who has been by jealous rulers,
Blotted out from history's page,
Yet her primal pride and passion,
Stand enticing, as she was,
To the nations of the Levant,
To the Gauls and Britons too,
For her call is deeply human,
And the imprint that she left,
Beats just like her cultic drums,
In the hearts of us who hear it,
While the beating of the drum,
Ever drives our newborn hope,
For a world the way she meant it,
Where our modern ways and knowledge,
Shares its gifts with one and all,
Where our picture of the ancients,
Through our search grows more complete,
Where we learn the ways of nature,
Whence the cities once sprang forth,
With the two in one united,
With our world united too,
That we reach the human dream,
Put an end to want and woe,
That our prowess as a species,
Lifts our eyes towards the stars -
(for the stars, and all endeavours
of our gathered human race
rightly are the common assets
of us humans, every one) -
And the Lady in her fury,
Made the mountain lands bow low,
When they dared to disrespect her,
When her glories they'd disdain,
Thus the fate of greedy dragons,
Nesting in their hoarded wealth,
Who proclaim the stars their fiefdom,
Treat the world with bare conceit.

Let us sound our grand commission,
That we're stewards of our land,
Yet with wisdom we're to guide it,
For the sake of all our kind.
Let our thought no more be hidden,
Let our worship songs resound,
Let our joys and lamentations,
To our Lady ever sound,
As it was in ancient Uruk,
Carthage, Cadiz, Babylon,
Let our species grow, united,
Learn the lessons of the past,
Giving honour to the gods,
And the shoulders that we stand on,
And for all that life's condition's
Nasty, short, and brutish too,
Let us yet be ever thankful,
For the page on which we stand,
Lets us count the thousand powers,
That she wears around her neck,
Lets us read and know her splendours,
Match them to the call we hear,
Lets us strive to build her temples,
Altars, shrines and sacred places,
That have stood in global memory,
Since the basal brick was lain.
Ever may her doors be open,
Never may her line be broken,
Ever may the words be spoken:
Holy Inana, your praise is sweet!​

𒊩𒌆𒀕𒆠 𒊩𒌆𒀭𒆠 𒍠𒊩

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