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Scientists researching nature and man,
sing, Muse Kalliope, about arcane progress
of inventive magicians, wizards, druids,
philosophers, alchemists, and physicists,
bright curious people who study our world
and organize knowledge in holy books
to record wisdom gleaned by supple minds
as they experiment on sacred quest
to discover truth and invent better ways
we perform tasks to rule civilization
that programs actions of each crafting hand.
While Homeros once sang of manic rage
and versatile wiles, Hesiodos of gods,
Valmiki of loyal love, Vyasa of conflict,
Lucretius of atoms, Vergilius of arms,
Ovidius of bodies transforming shapes,
Ferdowsi of wisdom and civilization,
Dante of punishment and search for faith,
Chaucer of lust and fierce desire to live,
Ariosto of chaos, Tasso of order,
Camoens of discovery, Spenser of virtues,
Shakespeare of outrage at horror of death,
and Milton of paradise lost and found,
I, Surazeus, inspired by Muses sing
of philosophy, science, and inventions
when curious men and women observe nature
and seek to comprehend physical laws
that govern vital scheme of evolution
transforming matter of swirling universe
in galaxies, stars, planets, and conscious life.
Why are heroes in ancient tales poets sing
warriors who fight and **** in brutal wars,
biggest, strongest, meanest, and wiliest men
who wield weapons of death, and crown themselves
god-kings, then claim divine right to rule lands?
Ten thousand years men argued and fought wars,
joining groups lead by men who organize
gangs to battle for control over land,
following men with loyal obedience
who comprehend best how rich nature works,
and perceive future possible events
when they analyze situations well
and build strong forts for well-trained warriors
to occupy strategic points on hills
that guard close fresh-water rivers and lakes.
Warriors who founded dynasties of kings
play grand roles of power on martial stage
of history, killing tyrants and thieves,
and decree rules that foster common good
to stabilize smooth social interactions
between groups, manage prosperous production
of commercial enterprise on lush farms,
and support design of religious art
in songs and plays that relate noble deeds
of great hero who founded nation state.
Yet every great hero king, mortal man
who inhabits body of flesh and blood
like us, grows old, dies, and crumbles to dust,
and power of his personal authority
dissolves in wind that howls in empty halls,
and all his grand Ozymandian boasts
echo dumb over waste land of his works.
New generations rise who fight again,
arrayed and lead by power-hungry kings
to impose their world view on other groups,
and millions die in brutal fights for power
in endless cycles of destructive wars,
so fighters fail to provide secure way
that constructs stable secure social state
where all individuals prosper and thrive
pursuing personal dreams for happiness.
While warriors fought each other for power
and fame, to play gods on stage of history,
humble men and women, seeking solutions
to solve problems, discovered sacred laws
of nature, and expressed visions of life
to state concepts that explain how things work.
While mad warriors destroy to gain control,
wise philosophers and genius scientists
ask questions, conduct research, observe nature,
state hypotheses, conduct experiments,
analyze data, and develop theories
to describe how our universe operates,
created in process of cause and effect.
While warriors destroy, scientists create
better ways to comprehend and describe
complex universe that nourishes our souls,
so clever thinkers and builders through time,
who search for truth beyond outdated modes
of linguistic models, and build world views
that assist people struggling to survive
by providing accurate facts about life,
are true heroes who build civilization.
Nations base myths of their right to exist
on founding fathers, empires on bold kings
who ****, and religions on peaceful prophets
who teach social rules of moral behavior,
while science builds theories of observed facts
on exact research of philosophers
and scientists into true nature of things.
I sing of scientists, who observe nature
and develop clear theories to describe
how our universe works, rather than warriors
who fight and ****, because their honest work
constructs Temple of Truth secure on facts
which shelters us from storm of social chaos,
preserving peace inside strong garden walls.
I am writing an epic poem about the lives of philosophers and scientists I call Hermead.

This section is the opening lines of the Invocation in the first book called Wisdom of Athena.

Book Page:
Buy Volumes:

The following is a list of philosophers whose lives are narrated in the Hermead.

Wisdom Of Athena
Lyre Of Hermes
Fire of Prometheus
Alphabet Of Kadmos
Healing Of Asklepios
Chaos Of Zethos Hesiodos
Water Of Thales
Map Of Anaximandros
Measurement Of Pythagoras
Change Of Herakleitos
Forms Of Parmenides
Mind Of Anaxagoras
Roots Of Empedokles
Atoms Of Leukippos
Void Of Demokritos
Ideas Of Aristokles Platon
Causes Of Aristoteles
Garden Of Epikouros
Library Of Demetrios Phalereus
Spheres Of Arkhimedes
***** Of Ktesibios
Parallels Of Eratosthenes
Globe Of Krates
Astrolabe Of Hipparkhos
Hedonism Of Philodemos
Swerve of Lucretius
Glow Of Sunlight
© Surazeus
2014 03 11

Hello sunlight, my old friend,
I have come to sing with you again
because a vision swiftly gliding
beams bright rays while I am writing,
and the vision that glows outward from my eyes
mirrors skies within the glow of sunlight.

On flowered hills I leap and dance
twirling round in cosmic trance.
Neath the halo of an apple tree
I flap my cape and pretend to fly
when my eyes are kissed by the glow of a diamond sun
that paints dark night, tinged by the glow of sunlight.

And in the beaming light I see
ten thousand people, maybe more,
people dancing on flat pyramids,
people drinking juice and chanting spells,
people praising the goddess who holds a new-born child
with reverent hymn, reflecting the glow of sunlight.

"Friends," say I, "Your love awakes.
Music like a grape-vine grows.
I hear your words so I see your thoughts,
I feel your arms help me stand and sing."
And my words like splashing raindrops ring
and blossom from the tree of sunlight.

And the people bow and pray
to their golden goddess queen,
and the flame flickers bright on the hearth,
teaching us the secret key of second birth
and the goddess sings, "The words of the prophets
are carved on the temple walls,
and on our hearts," and we feast in the glow of sunlight.
Maud And Star Mirror
Surazeus 2011 01 16

Little Maud walks to wooden barn
where she milks a cow in early dawn
then trudges back through thick mud
in freezing cold to castle kitchen hall.

Flash of light from thick wet muck
blinds her blue eyes for a moment
so she kneels and grasps a long stick
and pulls star mirror from dark dirt.

Dunking mirror in freezing stream
little Maud washes strange object clean
and gasps to see round silver disk
that reveals face of a beautiful queen.

Hiding star mirror inside her cloak
little Maud steps inside hot kitchen
where large Alis shouts you ugly pig
what took you so long to bring us milk.

After baking fifty loaves of bread
and dicing seven bushels of turnips
little Maud runs to her small shack
leaning against towering castle walls.

Little Maud gazes in shining glass
with awe at beautiful elegant queen
whose eyes are blue as summer sky
and hair is gold as shimmering wheat.

What strange painting is this she smiles
full of magic from hand of a sorceress
that she moves and talks in time with me
and always smiles at me like a friend.

What a pretty gown of scarlet silk
sewn with pure white pearls of light
and what a bright tall ring of gold
studded with diamonds and rubies.

Little Maud hears church bells ring
so she steps outside her frail shack
when a dozen women in white robes
whisk her away to a warm bath house.

Washing her clean in tub of water
and dressing her in a scarlet gown
they braid her long soft golden hair
and place a crown on her bowed head.

Riding a horse with attendant ladies
little Maud gazes in mirror surprised
wondering why they treat her so well
as if they thought she were a princess.

Galloping from woods of wild crows
tall man on a horse rides to her side
then grasps her braids with a shout
and pulls her down onto dusty road.

Shouting as he glares into her eyes
he cries so you refuse to be my wife
declaring you are far above my station
because you are granddaughter of a king.

I sent you a letter with a romantic song
hoping to win loyal love of your heart
but when you rejected my proposal
I rode straight to Flandria on my horse.

So I am a ******* because my mother
was daughter of a poor flour miller
and you are too high and mighty for me
then you can reign over wind and dust.

Just because you are a great princess
granddaughter of wise King Robert
and descendant of Charles Magnus
does not mean you are better than me.

I am good William Duke of Normandia
and though men have tried to **** me
a hundred times since I was but twelve
yet I reign supreme over all my land.

Flipping his cape with an angry growl
William turns to leap back on his horse
but Maud grips his arm with a smile
and kisses his mouth with eager desire.

Pressing close to his heaving chest
Matilda slips hands behind his head
and opens soft lips to taste his soul
and two hearts beat as one wild hawk.

Leaving him stunned with wide eyes
little Maud leaps back on her horse
and smoothing her long scarlet gown
she smiles and rides forth to her chapel.

Sitting in chapel by sparkling river
little Maud gazes deep in star mirror
and smiles when she sees William
appear behind her with flushed cheeks.

William and Matilda sit side by side
in small stone chapel by crystal stream
and drink together from holy grail
smiling at each other with loving eyes.

— The End —