“Homer: Epic Poetry,” Pierre Purvis de Chavannes, 1895, WikiArt.

Part 7: Ancient Tomb Revealed (Last)

Dreams, reality time and tempest-tossed,
Approached ancient mountain tomb, Lenera
And I, Inxia, source of voices, now music,
Crypt fires long extinguished, pyramidal
Tomb, foundations sinking, fronted with
Empty stone seat, bones of ancient gods,
Earth Fathers, guides and sandal walkers,
Wedge-fast bronze-bolted door, result of
Earth tremors, unfathomed centuries past,
Silent and unyielding to strength of dozen
Men, pulling, prying. Lo! One word, praying,
Released stolid hold: “Reveal!”

Alas! Tomb was temple entrance, sanctuary
Altar, sculptures, mosaics, paintings, history
Of humankind upon these isles. Wonders
Concealed, Lenera and I beheld, and, yes,
bones of dead, scholars, healers, prophets,
Male and female, venerable and beloved,
Ageless agéd. O! Rejoiced weeping of our
Souls, niches of papyri: histories, prophesies,
Cures unknown to modern ways, library of
Cyclic Isles. Overwhelmed, Lenera swooned
On marble floor, embedded she became,
Pale-veined, merged with all she had seen.

“Sacred Wood Cherished by Arts and Muses,” Pierre Purvis de Chavannes, 1884 – 1889, WikiArt.

When I returned to island sunlight, decades
Passed, twelve men, muscled, sun-bronzed
Now age advanced. For me, only moments,
Few gains of sand. “Sister, what happened?”
They asked in unison. Indeed, I, too, had
Changed, hair and face sun-burnished,
Eyes gleaming, moments in divine sight.
“The voices, music?” they inquired. All of
Us temple entered, artesian fountain flowing,
Water echo-dripping, whispering chimes,
Unique to every ear, wisdom conveyed,
Music of celestial spheres.

What marvels Æëtia could witness, as sweet
Lenera and myself, only one of six children,
War-wasted wildings. Dawning realization,
I knew my destiny: at time-suspended tomb-
Temple we would remain, not as goddess,
But priestess, studying papyri, living flame
Of knowledge. And, for my child-sprite,
Lenera, tearful, I knew her desires: merge
With Cyclic bronze, soul heaven-stretched,
Ever-watchful guardian at stone seat, “Third
Epigram,” Homer would one day write:

“Charity,” Pierre Purvis de Chavannes, WikiArt.

“I am a maiden of bronze, and am set upon
This seat of ancient tomb. Whilst waters flow
And tall trees flourish, and the sun rises and
Shines, and the bright moon also; whilst
Rivers run and sea breaks on the shore,
Ever remaining on this marble seat, I tell
Passers-by, ancient gods lie buried.”*

This concludes “Odyssey of Ixia” in seven parts. 
Thanks for reading and for many kind comments.

*Adapted from Homer’s “Third Epigram,” “Hesiod, The Homeric Hymns and
Homerica,” Harvard 
University Press, 1936 edition, page 467, (annotated copy
of Harvard classics student, 1944). 

Seven poems written whilst listening to “Création Du Monde,” (remastered) by Vangelis. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BU_kzPYOlY

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