As I lounge Beneath the shaded olive tree At the Argive Heraion Covered by the branches and dappled light I admire the breeze and swaying calliopes Mixed with golden grain Among the deeply darkened irises of life. My charge is majestic Striking, patterned blemishes Upon her cream-like skin. She eats with an entrancing elegance Not seen among humans The beautiful beasts And perhaps even the gods. In the distance I can see a figure striding about Like a playful dart in the crosswind And blurred by the haze Of beating suns Sometimes staring up to admire The gliding eagle Who occasionally blocks the beaming rays Falling through the distant cumulonimbus clouds Making their way from the mountains To shower us with mist And the coolness We so crave. I overheard the voice of the polis As they journeyed to the temple here Of the ruinous acts of leaders Who are leaders no more The wars waged for mysterious reasons Only the wagers can possibly understand The collapsing value of croeseids, drachmas, didrachm And now yen, dollars, and cents. I have seen it all before Will see it always again And ignore it every time Let the idyllic scene before me Wash over my every thread My every eye Because beauty like this Created by the artisans, the gods Is the only being, place, and thing That will never leave Will never lie, will never die I have seen it and see all Below, beyond, and above So believe it And see it through my loves.