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What is History without Myth,
Myth without Poetry?
We see what we see,
we understand what we can.
We hypothesise, fantasise
on what might have been
- even those who report to have seen,
their accounts are limited to their own view.
Myth is about the hero,
courageous and bold;
vanquishing the foe,
letting their story be told
over campfires at night,
in reverential tone;
stories of their might
of how they atone
for their mortal failings
on mountains or plains,
amidst dark storms sailing;
their quest to maintain.
These stories told often enough
become Myth; then becomes “legend”;
matters not a stuff,
passed on to youth
as a cautionary tale;
a moral lesson,
a fable; until stale
enhanced with aggression.
History is written by the victor,
it has been said.
How many mistruths and lies
will we be fed?
Truth is not seen.
interpreted or understood.
on a flat screen plasma TV.
So many trees, can’t see the Wood.
Neither believe, nor disbelieve;
that is my creed.
Let them tell their story, deceive
as they might. We need
more, dig deep into the morass
listen carefully, weigh the evidence;
so many lies, let them pass.
Our quest is for the transcendence
of the dull and petty;
from countryside, quietly rural,
or the crowded desolate city.
Collect it all, paint a mural
rich in colour, depth and detail,
drenched in blood and ink.
It’s ours, not for retail,
to serve as a link
to a reality more profound;
vibrant with energy;
It has its own sound,
its own pervasive synergy.
History is Poetry;
Poetry, rich in Myth.
A song of the legendary
fluid and vibrant, not stiff.
Les Bush
Copyright, 20 May 2013
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