The Ship of Rome

12 January 2024

Let me sing for you about the ship of Rome,
which crashed at Plymouth, spilling gods and heroes
to the sea. 'Twas not for you and me, that pantheon,
and yet we took that wreckage and built homes.
Did we not know the walls would talk, thus carved
from holy wood? They say strive harder,
on toward the unseen end of gloria, whence we shall be gods.
Did we not know the ship had crashed? That we, too, crash,
and always crash, so long as we rely on only worn-out navigation?

Let the augurs rest, no, let them die,
and let all children of the sky foretell
their own fate, falling faster than sweet Icarus,
to soon with Hades lie. But this old feud
is not worth reappearing, will not settle on these terms.
I crave a new word, after Rome, but not
instead of Rome, for who could pluck such mighty organs
out of this, her organism? Surely this beast
has a heart, so we won't start to prophesy
some doom ordained by civic need
and furthered on by bloodlust. No,
we want some answers for all misdeeds
done by smiling men with good intentions
and reputed names. It is the same, the same, the same,
no matter how the poor are skinned,
the plot remains, who does the skinning,
and are they held to account? One doubts
sincerely, and another has philosophy, but these
are even older than the crimes, and have done little
to assuage the unjust blood. Is it not time?
The ship, alas! may hold more corpses than we know.
But this will grow: take heart from this:
by now there have been other ships.

--

Will you listen? I have seen behind the curtain
and the man I saw is uglier than imagined.
He spoke croakingly, without a point or purpose,
flailing madly, with twin sceptres in his hands,
and pedalled briskly on the bike that turns the world.
I won't describe his face. All has its place,
except for him, the mastermind of chaos,
tossing here and there the pieces of our lives.

We dare not thrive, in this, his world,
and so we're cured, or so we're told,
but somewhere someone must remember
how to live...

At first, you give, and only then
dare to receive, for this, your need
to be a giver is the stronger.
Doubt not any longer. Love
is not the answer, though it is
part of the question, as new ships
come in from ever distant shores.
Don't hold off anymore. You have been
changed already, as you know,
and as these winds begin to blow,
depart, and set sail for yourself,
so long ago. So you must go
into the night the knowers know
with many histories in tow.

--

Augustus abolished wonder, that much is clear,
and he did steer the ship of Rome for many years.
Here on the other side, one sees how light can blind
and is reminded of the fateful deaths of Socrates
and Jesus, noble rebels, ever castaways on some
lost seaside isle. But death solves nothing, only life
can bring solution, as it mixes with all other life,
diluting thus the brew. It's nothing new, although
the solvents may be new, the process stands as it has stood.
We guessed it would, when we based Science on a method.
Let us wonder at this process, but think also
that the ship's wreck has been salvaged not in full, but in part only,
and that we may be still captive to its thrall.

--

The ships from the East were a welcome sight,
carrying treasure instead of soldiers, intending to awe
without terror barbarians abroad. The carrot
instead of the stick. But it would not stick
in imperial hearts, proud with punishment, dizzy with wealth,
though still novi homines in their own eyes. How to govern?
It would not be long before questions had outstripped answers
and the West would be overextended combatting the forces
it thought to control. But those thoughts were all wrong,
seen in time as the lies that they are, for we govern ourselves
as we govern our friends. We won't treat ourselves any better,
as creatures of habit, when habits are hard to unlearn
or control. How to govern? The ships may return or may not,
but our task is to learn all we can from them,
not as their servants or masters, but simply as friends,
with the knowledge that more wrecks will come
and that we would not like to be among them.