In the in-between time, after Prometheus stole fire and before the great ships of oceans both close at hand and far above had flown
There was a city marked by a tower of light.
The people came from the known universe from all places and cloistered, devoted to a new god, the deity of what their hands could touch and What their eyes could see at great distance.
These bright eyed priests came and built a temple to the god of what is, Euclid of the Planes and others, they came with flattened reed-pulp
And they scribed the god of what is into being.
Great Aritosthenes, who made the earth round and whole, long before Cosmic Galileo, that reality that disappeared for millennia
Even if Ptolemeus did not match the god-like powers of Coppernicus
Who made the sun stand still.
The last of these, Hypatia the Martyr, with Her all was lost to another temple, another god vying for control and this god
Did not preside over what is, his book was of what may have been and
What might be.
The scriptures were lost, burned, destroyed by the tool Prometheus brought, for knowledge creates and destroys in it's image,
and paper chars all the same.
That continuity was broken.
We mourn the loss of our heritage and Time.
One thousand years till another temple was built,
And
There was a city marked by a tower of light.
The people came from the known universe from all places and cloistered, devoted to a new god, the deity of what their hands could touch and What their eyes could see at great distance.
These bright eyed priests came and built a temple to the god of what is, Euclid of the Planes and others, they came with flattened reed-pulp
And they scribed the god of what is into being.
Great Aritosthenes, who made the earth round and whole, long before Cosmic Galileo, that reality that disappeared for millennia
Even if Ptolemeus did not match the god-like powers of Coppernicus
Who made the sun stand still.
The last of these, Hypatia the Martyr, with Her all was lost to another temple, another god vying for control and this god
Did not preside over what is, his book was of what may have been and
What might be.
The scriptures were lost, burned, destroyed by the tool Prometheus brought, for knowledge creates and destroys in it's image,
and paper chars all the same.
That continuity was broken.
We mourn the loss of our heritage and Time.
One thousand years till another temple was built,
And