At first there was only darkness
Then a single human form
This man had an idea The Goddess, Pride, was born And from Her bosom men did grow, By thousands, more and more. Her sin, Her flaw, She could not know Their numbers would spark war "We do not serve Her Pridefulness though from Her we are made, There's more than just Her sinful bliss There's jealousy; there's rage." And as the words were spoken And with a defeaning roar The skies were all but broken Before them stood two more Envy and Wrath, in all Their glory, Stood above the crowds. As such, in these two categories Servants were allowed. Pride judged these creations as was Her heavenly right "Sisters, not abominations," She spoke into the night Curiosity befell The tiny servile breed "Two more were conjured up from Hell! And of our Goddess, Greed?" They had but just to speak the words Then their Goddess come to life And thus the imaginative hordes Begat the Age of Strife The Goddess of Mild Inebriation The Goddess of the Unclean The Goddess of Sexual Deviation The Goddess of the Unseen Forty or fifty sprang up quick For every concept there was lack But Pride just gave Her wrist a flick Sending all but ten of them back: Lust and Sloth and Patience Glutton, Chastity Charity, Kindness, Diligence Temperance, Humility These fourteen were all but equals Pride "allowed" Them to stay (Though She was less than gleeful) And to Them, their subjects prayed. So began the Age of Peace To please we take great pains They give our lives tenuous lease
To exist as more than stains.
The man looked up from the sheet of paper he held before him, his eyes searching his Goddess' own as she scrutinized him. There was a tense silence as everyone in the hall observed the two, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the kneeling man broke the silence.
“G-Goddess?” he asked. “Did you like it?”
She raised and eye brow and crossed her left leg over her right, bracing her arms on her leg as she leaned forward to peer at the little man. “Well, do you think I should like it?”
He didn't know what to say. “I-I'm very proud of it, Goddess! I made it only to please you, and to glorify your name!”
The giantess let out a laugh that resonated through the grand structure in which she resided. “'Glorify my name'? You never even used my name! By the sound of your poem, my name is 'Pride'!” She scoffed, leaning back in her throne. “And beyond that, it didn't glorify me at all. It made me sound like a fool. Like some fledgling entity that didn't know what she was doing.” She narrowed her cold blue eyes. “No, little nothing. I did not like it. I hated it.”
“I-I'm s-sorry, G-G-Godde-” She uncrossed her legs, setting the sole of her shoe down on the insignificant form before her. His existence was completed with a soft crunch that barely escaped his Goddess' sole. She scanned the room briefly, extending one long, perfectly-manicured finger in another slave's direction.
“You. Do better, right now.”
“Y-yes, Goddess Ralana,” he said, scurrying before her. He took a deep breath and began:
At first there was only darkness
And from it, Ralana was born
Th-then She created the others
And... now She rules the land.
She smirked at her slave's feeble attempt. It was stupid. Childish. It didn't rhyme or flow as well as the other one had. And gods, was it short. It was a wholly awful poem.
She loved it.