Tuesday, 3 July 2012


 The tale is told how back in the bygone days when the gods walked the Earth, they made the first woman in this manner.
 They prepared a vessel shaped by the future desires of men, placing into it these things: the gleam of sunshine mixed with the yellowness of ripe corn, this became her hair. The cold clear dawn dew mixed with the hue of the violet, this became her eyes. The pale radience from the moonbeam mixed with the down from the neck of a swan, this became her brow. The red from the cherry mixed with the colour of mayberries, this became her lips. The whiteness of the snowflake mixed with a mayflower’s purity, this became her bosom. They took the sparkle from running waters for her smile and the cooing of a dove for her voice. The heat from the fire to fill her passion and the edge from the sword to arm her tongue. From the core of a flint, worked keenly, they made her mind and from the fall of a snowflake they made her touch. To this they added a blended mixture of extracts from the playful cruelty of the cat, the dancing lightness of the sunbeam’s notes, the flutter from the wings of the butterfly, the song of the nightingale, the industriousness of the bee, the gentleness of the mouse, the softness of a rabbit and the shiver of an aspen tree.
 If this were a god-made woman, then Gwinvera was a product of their hands. But did these gods not try to keep this woman for themselves, as being something too good for man? But man, in his brave audacity, stole her, and she became the great woemaker.
 Truth is embedded in the old tales for the wise to find and use as they will..
From the Coelbook.