Creation Take 2, A Jotun’s View

(Linda says: I thought the Edda’s story of creation was rather callous towards Jotuns, so I wrote this version from their point of view. It fits the lore just as well, and can be used to honor Ymir, Surt, Audhumla, Thrudgelmir, Buri, Borr, Bestla, Bolthorn and Bergelmir. It’s probably best not to use for honoring the Aesir, but most Jotuns will probably enjoy it.)

In the beginning, there was nothing...
and boy was it, ever boring!
Nothing to do, none to do with.
Potential vast, void without myth.

Then spark, boom, blast, defining space
Hotter than hell, (‘cause) there was no hell!
And Surt, standing, smug and flaming!
How he did that? He’s not telling!

With cooling came, the second world
Rivers, ice, fog, and freezing rain
Full foaming yeast, for life to form
And from that mud, the first man born

Cold Ymir called, and queer was he,
From sweaty feet, he fathered one,
With milk mothered, moist armpit pearls
Two bonny boys, and one bright girl

Urth the oldest, some say it was
Thrudgelmir next, and then a third
We don’t quite know, what name he forged
So let us now, just call him George

It was quite cold, and so they cuddled.
By their sleeping, parent huddled
Making more boys, girls and mothers
Making merry, like no others

There wasn’t much, to eat back then
That sacred cow, she suckled them
She licked the ice, for her own food
Found another, quite frozen dude

Buri was he, buried in ice
Rejoicing came, at this new life
Marriage without, any incest
And Thrudgelmir’s, three heads were thrilled!

Marry my daughter, my good man
And we shall all, prosper in peace
These two they bore, a son named Borr
He too soon wed, a Jotun maid

This brave Jotun, Mother of Gods
Bestla bore Vé, Vili, Odin
Bolthorn’s daughter, Blessed frith-weaver
Her sons grew and, they did deceive her

Hospitality, was repaid
Cruelty, for kindness trade
Odin murdered, Ymir who slept
To make the worlds, his kin he swept

Uncounted kin, did drown that day
Save Bergelmir, who sailed away
His household safe, rebuilt his race
But those are foes, unto this day

It’s true great good, such deeds we call
And marvel at, our towers tall
As we now stand, on native soils
But genocide, my mood it spoils

And should you hear, of these Aesir
And had they killed, all you held dear
Just ask yourself, if it were you
If you’d not hold, a grudge or two?

If wicked are, all giants made
In virtue gods, to who you prayed
This simple truth, do not evade
Remember who, that day betrayed

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