Where’s the first record?
Which way did the wind flow when no archives were kept?
What did the progression look like, who made the change—
which families were brought out of farms, who controlled the drifting panes?
What were the rules assigned, who signed-off the page?
What debt was paid for the lives made to kneel,
and made to keep their eyes-out for the next winding chase?
The world before extended only as far as the eyes could see—
before the record, before knowledge was spread to catharsis.
Other than the seldom Raven that went for the Sea,
people lived amongst familiar faces, of a similar race;
and the occasional tribal clash, over tribal land.
The concept of race was largely benign—unlike the prejudices held today.
The closest-thing to an archive was faith.
As human wonder witnessed the unwavering prowess
of the woods, of rain, of streams, that brought life every direction they went—
of predating beasts ridden by instinct, yet sharing the prey.
Whilst the indifference in blood made the tribes,
and planned their fall—to their knees, before a higher being.
What followed was the inception of an unspoken guide to abide-by—
the enactment in the best interest of Nature, keeping the tribe last.
But sooner than not, discrepancies arose from the thing or two we knew;
and so it crumbled…
Nature was then conquered, largely on land; Man became God:
an individual, the awakened one, ought remain tender
despite all suffering that came his way.
In the archive, a name was picked, in each regional-press—
a lore, and revised processions of the tribes were attached;
a new religion befell, and rested all authority, and embailment
in the hands of a single sect—and they ruled over the rest!
Roles were assigned in mass—the duality of class broke into a dozen new forks.
Scholars differentiated the ‘goods’ from the ‘bads’, in a penalised play.
A new order took place; I was made to refrain from heading out in mid-day.
“What way is there to certain when the karmic debt is paid?”