by G B Dent

Created on: July 12, 2008

XVII
Ethos.....
Watching the stars traverse across my winter sky
Like many a bold shaman from our distant past.
I trace arcs of light in the patterns they cast
Then match each image with its appropriate lie.
Old myths yield to new ones that scholars supply
To each generation with the hope they will last
Throughout all the ages and never be surpassed
By any odd vision or religion, their logic denies.
What crude fellows we are that gaze into the night
With our smug definition of these heavenly portals.
We rudely denounce them as mere torches of light
While we sort and chart by brightness and height.
We amuse ourselves with tall tales of immortals
Never pausing to consider if the ancients were right.

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