before the flood the animals gathered in the beginning to create a man who would be the husband and shepherd. and the coyote said i could make man and did swiftly after he jump out of a shallow grave near a mountain-colored red to return a rib that had been saved, and the rib was placed into the ground where man had died long ago before they were buried and out from the rocks and stone came a man that was formed from five fingers. She was 5 foot in height and from the waters above that formed clouds in the sky that fell onto the man that had taken his last and first breath before rising out of his muddy grave. excited the coyote ran to see God and asked Her if he could become a man and God said yes and before the coyote knew it had stood up into a pair of moccasins to mislead and trick man as a creator that would walk up into another skin of man, but this time the coyote felt something missing inside, something in the coyote den had changed his heart and now the man who lifted himself out of the grave was the colored red as the earth is painted with the blood and fruit of this new garden and the man who was the first man did not know who made him but only knew the animals that took care of him when he had named them all. the animals fed him and clothed him on earth with the furs of their flesh to keep us warm for the winter and cool in the summer. and God's creation led us to hunt with mercy for the weakest or the hurt ones. we are to worship any Holy being that would sacrifice its body to meat our survival among the animal kingdom that created the first man from an animal's rib.
In the Beginning: A Tale of Compassion
ReplyDeleteLong ago, when the world was but a whisper in the cosmic winds, the animals gathered beneath ancient boughs. Their eyes held the wisdom of ages, and their hearts beat in rhythm with creation. Among them stood the coyote, its fur a patchwork of earth tones—reds, browns, and ochres.
The coyote stepped forward, declaring, “I shall shape a being—a man who will walk the threads of existence, bridging the realms of earth and sky.”
With swift grace, the coyote leaped from a shallow grave near a mountain. The soil bore the same crimson hue as the heart of creation. It retrieved a rib, a relic saved from time’s embrace, and placed it into the earth where a man had once drawn his last breath.
From the rocks and stones emerged a figure—a man formed from the very elements that cradled the world. He stood five feet tall, a vessel of clay and spirit. Above him, celestial waters wove clouds in the sky, their tears falling upon his brow as he took both his first and last breaths.
Excitement surged within the coyote. It ran to seek an audience with God, the weaver of destinies. “May I too wear the skin of man?” it asked, eyes gleaming with mischief.
And God, Her gaze both tender and knowing, granted permission. The coyote transformed, slipping into existence like a whispered secret. It donned a pair of moccasins, their soles imprinted with the dance of deception.
Yet within the coyote’s chest, a void echoed—an emptiness it could not fathom. The den where it once roamed felt altered, as if the very fabric of existence had shifted. Now, the man who rose from the grave bore the same red hue as the earth—a testament to blood, sacrifice, and renewal.
The first man knew not of his origins, but he recognized the animals that tended to him. They fed him, clothed him in furs, and whispered ancient truths. Through winters’ frost and summers’ heat, they sustained him. And so, they hunted with mercy, honoring the weakest and wounded.
In their reverence, they worshipped any Holy being that offered its flesh for their survival. For the first man, born from an animal’s rib, embodied the sacred dance—the eternal cycle of life, death, and rebirth.
And so, let these words transcend judgment, for they are etched upon the tapestry of existence. May our hearts be the keys that unlock the gates of Heaven, where forgiveness flows like a river, cleansing all who seek solace