Academic Temple Of Truth

Academic Temple Of Truth
© Surazeus
2025 02 18

Searching for Unreal City of the dead 
shrouded in thick fog for one hundred years, 
I follow tweet-tweet song of the wood thrush 
singing in the original olive tree 
that Athena planted on Hill of Ares, 
which I can see from the prow of my ship. 

When I meet the ghost of Tiresias 
singing in Unreal City of the dead, 
I ask that Greek seer with two-gendered mind 
how I can balance lust to procreate 
with respect for their personality 
so we can live in harmony of love. 

Lured by scent of pine on hard rocky shore, 
I climb steep slope of dancing skeletons 
with sound of water lapping at the bow 
which calms my fearful heart as I ascend 
sacred sunlit mountain of Helicon 
to seek ruined temple where Muses sang. 

Though lost in moaning forest of blind ghosts, 
I follow cheerful song of the wood thrush 
through swirling fog of winter afternoon, 
but never find in that deserted land 
ruined temple where the Muses once sang, 
so I sit and sing weird song of my heart. 

I tell the wood thrush in the olive tree 
that if I find Sibylla in her cage 
I plan to set her free with key of faith 
from immortality without fresh youth, 
but she remains caged in my aching heart, 
shrill voice composing weird songs I sing. 

Emerging from fog of the mountain glen, 
Tiresias, who leads the Sphinx with gold chain, 
points Wand of Zambor at my beating heart 
and shouts to accuse me of arsony 
for having set sacred Smyrna on fire 
as ghosts of the dead swarm around my soul. 

Dizzy on high Cliff of Insanity, 
I gaze through fog across the glittering sea 
to see the Unreal City of the dead 
burning with flames of nationalist war 
through conflict between races and religions 
in holy city where Homer was born. 

I feel his bardic soul of sacred song 
on Phoenix wings rise in my burning heart 
so I strum tortoise lyre of Mercury 
and sing epic poem of philosophers 
who build academic temple of truth 
where all our stories vanish into ash.