But For a Talk With Critias
Imagine a hoary and hide-bound tome,
A translation of an ancient Greek text.
Sift 'mongst the lines, and through the details comb,
Referenced there find what has so men perplexed,
Hand-me-down quotes of a third hand account
From Egypt's priests scrolls...of a country hexed.
The thinnest hints 'bout a volcanic mount...
Tales of a people who challenge gods could...
A city ringed by harbors, three in count.
Wonders, grandeur, and all that was deemed good,
Storied in culture and philosophy,
Destroyed by a cataclysm not withstood.
True the story or an artifice be?
Platonic ramble? Neptunian get?
This utopia which has named a sea...
Believe? I want to, but convinced? Not yet.
The legend of Cleito's ten sons stays strong...
The world reminds us lest we try t'forget.
If true, it sings th;words of man's oldest song.
Fantasy? Real?
Atlantis of dreams...
Canst thou ever be found?
Terzanelle (with a Questionku chaser)
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