Of Myth and Men

But is it true? Does flesh impart the spirit heart with mystery to synchronize its beating— fare its child with golden history beyond its bloody birth, its soft resigning death to spur romance alone? There is a touch of sainthood in the firelight raconteur who sketches in the apparition of a god to dress his reach into the past... from where did that emerge? In truth, inside of us. In truth, each journey to the mountaintop will pass the lions in the heart, medusas on the sands to lure us to the lands of strange delight where men and beast unite, where totems tower beyond our failing sight. And with it all, the fantasy of song— the legend sung to men far long upon the trail who caught a glimpse of that old highway through the mist from earth to fair Olympus where the demigods cavorted one last time, and left their imprints in the golden dust. With humankind there just is not enough to raise the breath of life beyond, yet with the fabled must of prowling lions, teacher and disciple feed their mind and soul not from the carrion of Eden but the cradle of the Ark. ~