Witness

Strange…but enough that I’m immortal my memories of Marathon and beyond.
These visions come and I’ve returned…

The gods mingle and our famed Philosophy flourishes.
And our boon our thriving Acropolis, where worship bolds on variety and crept a numerous, intuitive mind beguiles.
New mysteries and hardened oneness for our lords, initiates our cult of Eleusinian naming one.

And my great conscious shone before Aristophanes, the one of other Dramatists laughing at themselves while depicting the world they knew.

Now later the glimpses return and I’m reading Thucydides…his great loss and banishment my dread of war’s conditions clouding the desperate cry of humanity. Hitherto come our general morality and this furrative ambition.

And who am I, to have witnessed these many great men’s feats and expeditions and then outlive them as nothing even human?
Miserable I never thanked them seen as my gods…

Now here the angels of my brothers tell me I should pray. Beginning with their bible and I can reach you.
My confession…of how you’ve ruled my thoughts, designing the world on epic imagination. Staggering how your lives have lived after you, and as alive as I am I walk bearing your name as pride flatters most.

My immortal brothers, you survive through me your greatest worshiper.