Oct 30, 2007

at the altar of the olympians

What say you, oh Homer?
Is the Orator speaking from his well-worn grave?

For once there was an age
when the deeds of man spanned the heavens
and the works of women won them immortality
when a strong man would crush an empire
and a pure love would shatter that strength.

But this time has long since passed
centuries have left us with a dormant strain
stories—written in languages long dead.
The oldest of men remember them but vaguely as dreams.

What, then, am I to do when
in this, the dusk of Man
I am suddenly met by a society of legend?
These days have brought me near
the offspring of the gods;

The venerable Son of Apollo
Who brings truth, healing, and plague.

The twin daughters of the goddess Athena
whose wisdom and prophecy guide man, nation, legend.

The humorous son of Hermes
who tells stories with the truth of a double-edged sword.

The purest daughter of Aphrodite
winged sprite whose youth and light heart rejuvenate the weary.

A Legion of the Sky—those whose subtle burning will not fade.
a Legion in strength and stature, though not in number.

The sum of this Beauty overwhelms me.

But where does that leave me?

Am I Icarus, venturing too close to the sun?
Or Prometheus, seizing a spark of life
only to be cast into judgment?

Oh, Author of Eternal Legend
I thank you for the grace of beauty you have given me,
but too much good leads me to worry

Let not this harmony decay
nor allow me to descend into irony.
I am not yet worthy of these blessings.
But as I stand in my sodden state I beg
Take these not away from me
teach me to be a man of legend
worthy to share the ground with those
that you have placed surrounding me.