"Days of Creation, Third Day," Edward Burne-Jones, WikiArt.
“Days of Creation, Third Day,” Edward Burne-Jones, WikiArt.

Part 4: Two Souls Lost to Everything

Voices of Greek Chorus:
Nascent star dawning on coalescing sphere
Of molten rock, Ancient Sylvae ushered first
Earth sunrise. Divine thought awakened star-
Dust streams, thrust in orbing motion. Wind
And water cooled earth’s feverish brow,
Mountains rose, genesis of life swept seas
And forests, early humans stepped forth,
Marrow and soul admixed, ability to fashion
Tools, make fire, co-exist in nature’s harmony.

For earth epochs, Ancient Sylvae visited life-
Burgeoning lands, guided and assisted race
Of man until weapons they devised, fire used
To destroy in angered wrath, divine perfection
Tainted by rise of warring men, dead bodies
On bloodstained battlefields, despoiled by
Dogs, carrion birds, epic histories penned on
Papyri. As families fled ravages of war, Sylvae
Sought secluded safety of distant cedar hills.

To understand divine is to fathom limitless,
Thought without beginning or end, creation’s
Substance, discerning sight beyond reach of
Bright sunlight. From timeless dark epochs to
First glimmer of universal dawn, and eventual
Chaotic collapse, enduring presence absorbing
All matter, souls, and light, coalescing, reshaping
Existence, where all is oneness, and one single
Soul is part of everything.*

To source of this oracular vision, generals and
Kings made pilgrimage, seeking victories in war,
Conquering distant lands. To honour Ancient
Sylvae, altar and mountain temple were erected,
Sacred cedars felled. Except unexpected occurred,
Flowing streams ceased, Sylvae disappeared into
Higher hills, time turned backward, Iolanthe as
She was, shepherdess, hillside overlooking grazing
Sheep, melodies of moving bells, resting from
Noonday sun in shade of ancient cedars.

"Girl with Dog," Kanstantin Makovksy, WikiArt photo.
“Girl with Dog,” Kanstantin Makovksy, WikiArt.

Lost in translation and in verse, pain Iolanthe
Suffered by oracular wisdom, young shepherdess
Whose soul could not bear hundred years of
War, death of sacred cedar groves, her place of
Inspiration unrestored. Lo! No communion with
Ancient Sylvae, her existence was time-torn.
Two souls lost to everything, Iolanthe and Ekho
Dissolved into ethereal light, mournful tragedy
Recited by voices of Greek chorus.

* Derived from “The Word is Common” by Heraclitus.

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