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.
No comments:
Post a Comment