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Back when I was a character in classical mythology, I was hanging out with this overly hyperactive girl.
I was the god of Curiosity; she goddess of Catch-me-if-you-can,
She had dead bugs, crushed flowers, and twigs in her knotted hair; she was a living tribute to nature and her navel had dirt in it.
She was elusive and thrifty with words. She was mute 1/4th of the day, made noises another quarter, verbose for 6 hours and the rest I don't know, for this time I spent eavesdropping on the other gods.
They were selfish, stupid and egotistical; they were lusty, bawdy and lazy. The seldom bathed they lied, tricked and tried to take advantage of each other, successfully.
They raped, teaming up to create a complicated ruse to confuse a common enemy in ruthless tortures they called "practical jokes."
They made me sick and so I took my curiosity elsewhere, caughther-as-I-could, and dove in way past the metaphysical; here's what happened:
Through a means not suitable for the ears of children, we sired the sun,
Five trails of liquid ran down our thighs and became the oceans; five tears of our ecstacy made the Great Lakes.
The bickering of the gods were passed on to mankind, and I stood with her, holding hands, watching;
Then we fell.