When Titans Clash

This poem was recently found on a repaired vase, perhaps of ancient origin. Or maybe written yesterday.
Beware when Titans clash
If you live on land below.
They stomp about most rash
And seldom watch where they go.

They seek more distant goals
With their heads above the clouds.
Their passions drive their souls;
Self-purpose their vision shrouds.

All focused on campaign,
They answer the challenge's call.
They will rule their domain,
Or, with all foes, they will fall.

Who they were ere the fight
Is lost in fog of battle.
The thought to do what's right
Gone in combative prattle.

Urge to win overwhelms,
Knocking over reasons why.
Power lust for the realms
Blinds the more foresighted eye.

What victory is won
In this heedless ruins' wake?
All that was is undone --
No prize left intact to take.

Oh, Titans, be at peace
Within that you now possess,
And leave our bits of Greece
Unflattened by your excess.

Calliope (epic poetry, politics, justice), Clio (history), Euterpe (music, dialectic, flutes, lyric poetry), Thalia (comedy, pastoral poetry, mathematics, architecture, agriculture), Melpomene (tragedy, rhetoric), Terpsichore (dance, education), Erato (love poetry), Polyhymnia (sacred poetry, geometry, grammar), Urania (astronomy, navigation)
and

The Tenth Muse

What artists or scholars do not seek, knowingly and only practically, the guidance and approval of their Muse in their love of the knowledge and craft they pursue? These nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, taught by Apollo, guarded and bestowed to us the secrets of all arts and science as were within their individual domains. Collectively, they gave us language, technique, creativity, and appreciation of learning and achievement. Individually, they have selected and blessed many through the generations of Man to carry on and advance their cultivated areas.

But most of us are not so blessed with the special gifts from a guardian Muse. We merely dabble while experts create. We share in the benefits and wonders of their creations and discoveries (and sometimes suffer from their unruly consequences) but not in their famed glory.

And yet, when we look about us every day, we see the contributions of such lesser folks as us in these same pursuits to which the Muse-inspired are driven. We show our grasp of the arts and science, the communication and practice of these skills, albeit at more rudimentary or moderate levels. We too have a guardian and a benefactor. One whose tended flocks has added to all the cumulative endeavors of Man more (in quantity) than any of the specialized prodigies of the individual Muses. One who has overseen and aided us across all the spheres of knowledge. This one is the Tenth Muse, the neglected brother of the Muses, the generalist amongst these focused advocates of their specialties. Let us in the greater mass of people give our thanks to our Muse, Anony. Many today forget to credit their Muse in the works they produce, but our most humble of this family is the most often cited despite his modesty.

Thank you, Anony Muse.

The Life of a Gadfly

The Life of a Gadfly

Many ages have passed since Hera gave our females the Thirst.  Without the feast of blood, our species would not see its next generation. Now we are renowned for those startling nips and reviled for that small part of our life placed upon us by a jealous goddess.  Io shall forever flee our bites, even as we search for more meaty rumps to feed the Thirst.

Let us embrace our reputation rather than dilute it with the truth about the nectar-sipping ways for most of our adult lives.  Allow the toothless males to revel in the begrudged respect and caution our species elicits amongst the slow and fleshy targets.  Accept the praise in analogue to those amongst the meals who refuse to let complacency overlook the problems which surround their kind – those who prod their fellows with sharp inquiry and rebuke upon their exposed flaws.

From the example of those human gadflies, we should draw self-respect.  Do they not too feel the compulsion of the Thirst, long held in unneeded dormancy, but arising in undeniable urgency when unmoving obstacles thwart improvement and progress?  Will their community grow when merely nourished on stagnant tried-and-wanting ways, following with inertial plodding on the worn path in the wrong direction?  Let their sawing upon the oblivious flesh stir the social body to cast an eye to the site of their attack.  They brave the possible swat to feed the Thirst, but, like us, may be aided in escape by the awoken curiosity  as the startled target seeks explanation before vengeance.  One bite does not kill the bitten; it merely reminds it not to rest too long in one (perhaps ill considered) spot.

Do we claim to have such altruistic purpose in our Thirst-driven meals?  No, we are mere natural mechanisms in the celestial plans of others.  How much cognition can be packed into a bug?  But the results are the same with intentional motivation or repeated side-effect.  Did Hera endow us with the Thirst for good or evil purposes?  How does a bug judge a goddess?  But we have roamed far from Io's tender flesh.  We defended Mt. Olympus itself from the invasion of Bellerophon astride Pegagus.  Who can count all the events we have initiated and weigh their values to the bitten and those nearby?  Or add to the tally those we have inspired amongst our human counterparts?  Let us take pride, fellow gadflies, and give thanks for the Thirst that gives us our identity and role in the world.