Growing out of the dust and ashes of the Greek Dark Age.
Following the trails of Geometric pottery.
Following the call of Homer’s poetry
As beautiful as the siren song of Odysseus.
The Greeks found their way back to the homeland.
Trade flowed in once again
Feeding the culturally starving populous.
They told stories of the brave deeds of heroes long ago
As the spinning potter’s wheel
Built their complex city-states.
They eventually got too big
So brave men set off
To found new colonies
They splattered Mediterranean coastline
With pottery paint specks of Greek culture
Spreading all the way to Spain and down into Egypt.
The written word matured.
A man’s worth was judged by courage in battle
Homer said to agathoi and kakoi alike.
Those that cowardly hide in tents
Pouting about their losses
Are not favored by the gods.
Those that heed their brothers’ call to arms
Will see their rewarding afterlife
And escape Hades’ icy grip.
For their warrior’s society
They must practice the deeds and revel
In Ares’ grim works.
So they can be called aristos.
That was their goal in life.
Aristos in fighting.
Aristos in running.
Aristos in speaking.
Aristos in cunning.
Aristos in the chariot race.
Aristos in weaving and other crafts.
When others see success
They are roused to work hard themselves.
Potters are jealous of potters,
Same with carpenters and beggars.
All to preserve their fortune and enhance their valuable time.