Part 3: Ancient Bloodlines
Sea passage amongst gathering clouds,
Crete mountains emerging, fresh winds
Building, Dolius and Selva with child
Bow-sailing. Bitter past leagues behind
Them, clad in pilgrim’s hooded robes,
Sage and apprentice, at first foothills they
Offered prayers to Æthra, ascending high-
Land trails, cloud-swept ocean vistas led
to shepherds, guides to buried papyri.
Ancient bloodlines, Selva and nomadic clans
Recognized their own, embraced greetings
Upon mountain brow, armband gifts given,
Sheep-grazing meadows beneath sunlit clouds,
Earth’s high citadel, trek to sacred wells, sand-
Buried urns within deep hold, knowledge of
Higher divinities. Yet, tonight they feasted,
Lamb slaughtered for Selva’s return, prayers
And flower offerings for sea-lost mother.
No stain upon your body or clan, Selva reveal
Your child to family, raised in nomadic lands.
Lo! Mountain sun ocean-setting, planets rising
Firmament of stars, Mother of Theseus ever
Watching, son’s destiny clay-tablet inscribed,
Holy healing-wanderer he shall be, stranger
To no one, mortal and divine admixed. Selva,
Heed clarion call: train your son in wisdom of
Shepherds, knowledge of ancient papyri.
Across mountain pass they trekked, Selva,
Dolius and shepherds, to city left abandoned,
Earth tremors closed life-giving springs and
Wells, library collections buried since bronze
Ages. First view of stone-encircled pit, two
Leagues across, dark depths except at noon-
Day sun, earth reluctant to yield treasures.
Who would descend brick-lined chasm? Selva
Or Dolius, both would tempt shifting sands.
Which is more rewarding, journey or destination?
Once at the well, the journey begins with discovery
of verses on fragmentary papyri, revealed in Part 4.