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Bacchus was the title
Conferred to those responsible for ¹"gardening."
Zagreus, lineage of Zeus but son to ²Hades, bore another title.
The "Zageuri" lead in the night.
There were no feasts of raw flesh, but many dances and celebrations while they tended to "The Great Fire."
Of the Zageuri, Zagreus lead.
The title, rendered in Latin, is like Noctus Rex.
You see, on islands, humans have the capacity for an incomparable amount of exertable control over that of their environment.
Those of the lineage Zeus & ³chosen sons of the "God" had, along with the Baccuhi, relocated or slayed the majority of the island's predators.
All those who would not be or could not be companions, like Lupus & Lybica.
The few remaining were nocturnal.
The relocation or slaying of them, any & all nocturnal predators,
Fell to those responsible for when Darkness dawned & Night reigned.
Those "descendants"  of Hades, lineage of Zeus.
And in that, "The Great Hunt," we found among the elusive,
As we had found among the obvious,
Many other intelligent animals.
Many welcomed companions.
Wherein was birthed the Zageuri title,
Noctus.

The Nocti, the owls.

Gardeners in their own right,
Yet still hunters.
1 - Scale, methods, resources expended, et cetera are closer to what we would call terraforming. Proto-terraforming.

2 - Hades being in charge of the "night shift," within this context. Nyx of his lineage. Hades of the lineage of Kronos, but son to Khaos.

3 - As in, they themselves proved they were worthy enough to make their own decisions. They are "children" because they have chosen. Chosen that specific order/family.
The scalpel is much like the pen,
In the hands of caring & skilled surgeons.

Tuna, Sturgeon, Trout.

If you loosed a seam
Stitch it or cauterize it - heal it,
Otherwise it's all down-stream.

If you offend,
Make right by making amends;
You are stricken by lightning.

If you misrepresent,
Apologize & correct your error by proper interpretation
Or to the caves be sent!


Judge not the judges,
For you are one & this inclination is only a natural one,
Lest you receive an unjust verdict.
Hermes - Lineage of Hades, but son of Zeus.

Tuna, Sturgeon, Trout - "Placeholders"
From the savagery which birthed civility;
From the meek,
I made strong.

I who go on.

I choose to pass-on,
To divide my belongings to those most deserving.
I who will work with others,
And in that way - do for them.
But never by force,
Through any medium & by any method
Of which that takes shape & form.
It has many meanings. Traditionally, it's about unifying upper & lower Egypt - North & South.

Meek - Gentle & kind.
When one withholds their perspective,
This is the most sour grape.
That is like wine gone bad,
Caustic & acidic.
Destructive to the natural flow
Of the great amphoras.
They call them crocodile tears
When animals muddy the waters
By disturbing silt or dirt
And thereby obscuring/obstructing
What is otherwise a clear view.
As like pouring wine into a cup of water.
1 - Ate, the greek god of moral blindness & error.

2 - Bacchus was a title of honor denoting a leader in all fields. I.e. Science, philosophy, poetry, music, et cetera. Similarly, as an actual leader of a given area or nation.

Also, this is solely about muddying waters in regards to understanding. Understanding whoever, whatever, whenever. In reference specifically to the waters of the Nile.
The Gordian Knot?
¹ The mesh of civilization.

To untie it is to understand it,
To know it.
This is to TIGHTEN it.

To cleave it is to try to conquer it;
It all comes undone,
Never to be re-strung.

You can be Prometheus,
Who was actually always celebrated,
Or you can be Aeneas -
The one who was really ChAINhed to the rock.

What matters is learning,
² All else is for naught.
1 - Or the fabric of the universe.

2 - Naught or, more aptly, Knot. All else is which we might tie or untie in either attachment or liberation is itself for civilization.
Mixing quantum theory & theology
To drive deeper, points of philosophy
That otherwise are lost
If, today, they come across
As too simplistic

Mixing my life & history with antiquity
Because so much of what is happening are
Trapped in patterns and sequences, being repeated
And to give life more interest and meaning
An older one I've re-posted, from January 2024
Aaron Beedle Mar 25
I don't care what other people think,
the only opinion I need is my own.
And I form it in the echo chambers
of my cold and lonely home.

I don't trust what other people say.
I've been hurt by everyone I've known.
People are mostly out for themselves.
I'm better off working alone.

People don't listen when I talk.
Don't hear my dreams and fears.
And when I share the things I think,
people often disappear.

And when I give a friend advice
and they don't do what I say,
well how can I help my friends through life?
I don't know another way.

People and I have nothing in common.
They don't understand my pain.
I used to want people around me,
but now I just move away.

Please feel free to leave some critical feedback on the poem.
About: People exhibiting the same behaviours that they criticise in others, and how this makes them sad.
Aaron Beedle Mar 17
The inebriation of exhalation as the wild beast burns it's gut.
A trampling hoof that guides aloof this creature's weathered foot.
Time again a gait that fails
the weathered engine derails.

The other follows, a steady pace,
pursuing subtly an unfamiliar face.
Their paths crossed not without reason
though looking now it cannot see them.
What past has taught the future taunts with,
its exhausting, this furious pursuit of treats.
It helps the creature to it's feet.

What east feeds, west shall feast on.

The water offered, soon enough gone.
And though the west one was defeated,
it smiles in gratitude, almost sweetly.
But deep inside, the fire burns
the lessons learned are lost
as winter comes with a hunger born of frost.

Binary beasts, slave to each other.
Two wayward children split from their mother.
About: My view of the cultural differences between 'Western' and 'Eastern' countries.
Francis Oct 2023
You can explain trigonometry to a zebra,
You can blab till blue in the cheeks,
But that doesn’t at all determine,
Whether a zebra will learn trigonometry.

A piece of irony:
We expect Zebras to be black and white,
Because their appearance says so,
But what about their feelings,
Who they are as Zebras?

Luscious, rare, and totally majestic,
But most of all,
Slept on…
Like most beautiful things, a pity indeed,
But that’s nature.

You find yourself mesmerized by them,
Yet you never truly grasp their beauty.
I ponder one small thought:
What do we really know about zebras?

We know what we are told,
We know what we see,
We know what we read,
But somehow,
These zebras,
They just… unapologetically exist,
In ways that never remain consistent.

Lions hunt zebras,
and rip them a part,
Because lions assume that these zebras,
Are merely the inferior species,
Ready to be preyed upon,
Simply because they’re less dominant,
In a world of carnivorous predators.
Poor little Zebras
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