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Ylzm Aug 16
Why is life measured in years and not living?
Long years and truly life, uncorrelated
Age and wealth, mere numbers, not significance
Whereas transcendence and becoming is

The old was yesterday, the new reborn daily
More than the sum of all you were, and more
Every day a new world, walked with new eyes
With ancient soul, and even more ancient spirit

Seeing from the end to the beginning, and beyond
Insatiable but there is yet sleep, and tomorrow
Today, a life fully lived, and ancient evermore aged
Eternal life beckons, and tomorrow We walk, again

And We walk not alone, but as One
The unseen truly real not that seen
Back from the county town, my past lives
collide with my present course, I'm tinged
with nostalgia, memories of my upbringing;
Coming-of-age, young adulthood, in-between.

I can't shake the place I was born and reared,
A town so submetropolitan.

Back from the capitol region, upstate,
I ponder an alternate life that never was
under the flag of the United States; dream
of whoever I would have been.

I can't shake the cultures I was brought up in,
A healthy moon, a rose so paracelsian.

Back in The Fair City,
I am absolved ♃ere.


♑︎herefore this instance
of being in the world,
Having known and loved
one's place in the universe.

Some time abroad
excites the soul,
¥ is the new Ƶ.
Once cannot teach
Because One is still a student,
This is because we are always learning.

One cannot study
Because One is still a teacher,
This is because we are always guiding.

Developing,
Like three rivers which join & fork -
Only to re-join in course.

We are always trying & changing,
Doing & reaching.

In the pursuit of understanding,
Truth is achieving
And knowledge is victory.

Compassion & patience -
The keys to all things.
Where in the world?!
What in the world?!

- Poseidon

How in the world?!
𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝?!
Why in the world?!

-Zeus

Wanna test it?!
Can we ¹perfect it?!

-Hades
1 - Perfect has many definitions and bares many different meanings, given the context.
Bacchus was the title
Conferred to those responsible for ¹"gardening."
Zagreus, lineage of Zeus but son to ²Hades, bore another title.
The "Zageuri" lead in the night.
There were no feasts of raw flesh, but many dances and celebrations while they tended to "The Great Fire."
Of the Zageuri, Zagreus lead.
The title, rendered in Latin, is like Noctus Rex.
You see, on islands, humans have the capacity for an incomparable amount of exertable control over that of their environment.
Those of the lineage Zeus & ³chosen sons of the "God" had, along with the Baccuhi, relocated or slayed the majority of the island's predators.
All those who would not be or could not be companions, like Lupus & Lybica.
The few remaining were nocturnal.
The relocation or slaying of them, any & all nocturnal predators,
Fell to those responsible for when Darkness dawned & Night reigned.
Those "descendants"  of Hades, lineage of Zeus.
And in that, "The Great Hunt," we found among the elusive,
As we had found among the obvious,
Many other intelligent animals.
Many welcomed companions.
Wherein was birthed the Zageuri title,
Noctus.

The Nocti, the owls.

Gardeners in their own right,
Yet still hunters.
1 - Scale, methods, resources expended, et cetera are closer to what we would call terraforming. Proto-terraforming.

2 - Hades being in charge of the "night shift," within this context. Nyx of his lineage. Hades of the lineage of Kronos, but son to Khaos.

3 - As in, they themselves proved they were worthy enough to make their own decisions. They are "children" because they have chosen. Chosen that specific order/family.
Hadrian Veska Jun 26
Down the hall
Back and to the right
Past a broken neon sign
Through an unlocked door
Then down four flights
A hole in the wall
In a room on the left
Follow it down
Through dirt and rock
After more than a while
You'll see a faint light
A oil lamp hanging
Kept by those who travel
So bring some won't you
The oil that is
Not much further past
You'll  find what you seek
The city beneath the city
The world and the way
That we abandoned long ago
The past they made us forget
And the future that might still be
Drink the golden nectar from the cedar cup,
enter the forbidden world,
steal the poetry,
and sing the songs,
enlighten your soul,
and return richer,
for this life seems short,
time after time.
Temple of Artemis;
Steal the cheese,
But remember
It isn't free!
For Artemis is always hunting!
Hunger.
But who puts out the dairy?
Wisdom.

For the kid who doesn't
Feel the need to thieve.
For the outsider of the pack;
For who wanders back
Carrying foodstuffs
They foraged,
They collected.

This is a leader.

"For why did you not steal, coward?!"
"I am not cowardly."
"Not fit then, lackey!?"
"I can lift, I can run."
"Then what was it?"
"The others couldn't."
"Your kind then, eh?!
You're kind then, eh!?"
"I'm good
As long as 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥."

It is for the stranger of the temple
Who is no stranger to the temple!

One who cares for the altars, one & all.
A way of life from long ago, from long before those old ancients ever wrote it down. Remnants of larger unity & organization among the Greeks, from like times before the mythical Trojans.
It's funny when you read works from the ancient world on mythology - its meanings and their origins. The most learned must even confess to ignorance or outright confusion from lack of knowledge via record or experience.
lilli May 13
looming over a flower field
booming over a quiet sea
falling into an easy solitude
calling out to an empty chasm

when I asked you what you wanted
I never guessed it'd be me
when I asked what you needed
I didn't expect it to be anything

you looked otherworldly in that lighting
something ancient in me shattered
I just had to go down fighting
and risk my heart being battered

sitting in a bed of plush grass
spitting into saltwater
plunging into a suffocating silence
dispunging over a bottomless pit

thoughts breaking into glistening raindrops
knots tying messes into my stomach
decay taking over all my crevices
betrayal to every one of my senses
A short one, but still meaningful to me.
Chris Saitta May 12
Low are the crickets of Delphi
With their chirping rays of sunset,
Like Phaethon to photon destructs
Into the fiery ruts of chariot wheels,
Or two eagles flying opposed on stringed vicissitudes,
A bird-yarning of sky from the omphalos stone,
The fulcrum of sung misery, a fishing net thrown,
As the half-bird and half-ion in siren’s undertones
Lure in subatomic orbs of ghostly parabolic swerve,
Into this blued Corinthian evening, self-vibrato,
Rocking like an empty boat from the dock rope,
Or an empty heart, unmoved by its own beating.
The Greek myth of Phaethon, son of the sun-God Helios, relays how he ignored his father’s protests and drove his father’s chariot across the world burning it in fire when it came too close.  Zeus struck him down with lightning.

The Omphalos stone was considered the “navel of the world,” the center of all things and situated in the Ancient Greek province of Delphi.  Myth relates that Zeus commanded two eagles to fly in opposing directions and they met over Delphi, which was ordained the center of the world.  A copy of the Hellenic stone exists in a museum in current Delphi and is covered with a carved wrought net, which some interpret as the woven narrative of life and the tales of time.
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