Wednesday, September 6, 2017

1468, The Scholar’s Ledger




In the damp ache of Rome, fourteen-sixty-eight,
The heavy iron teeth of the prison gate
Chomped down on twenty souls—dreamers, all,
Chained for the crime of standing too tall.
The Pope had a shadow, a whisper of dread,
A conspiracy conjured from ghosts in his head.

And there was Laetus, taken in Venice, a prize,
With the dust of the ancients deep in his eyes.
A humanist ghost in a monk-ridden town,
A man who would not let the old wisdom drown.
They hauled him back south, through the mire and the rain,
To the rack and the ruin, the long, rhythmic pain.

They wanted a confession, a lie for the record,
To sharpen the edge of the Church’s cold sword.
But he held his tongue like a secret of fire,
While they stoked the coals of their pious desire.
He broke, perhaps—but his mind kept its flight,
Turning the pages of shadows to light.

I’ve sifted the rubble of centuries’ lies,
Where the truth of the man in the damp darkness dies.
It wasn’t the steel, and it wasn’t the plot,
It wasn’t the treason the history books got.
His crime was the classroom, the Accademia halls,
Where the Greek voices echoed off crumbling walls.

He dared to talk Plato when dogma was king,
He dared to hear poets of antiquity sing.
And that was the friction, the spark in the dry,
The vision that dared to look up at the sky
Before the great fires, before the long war—
The hunger for something they couldn’t ignore.
He was just a man with a book in his hand,
And that, in that city, was against the command.



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ELENCHUS... A Trial of History"    (15)
PUBLICATION IDENTITY & CREDITS

Original Text & Inspiration:
Panayotis V. Mataragas (Rotterdam)
The foundational vision, drafted at the crossroads of European history.
Language Editing & Adaptation:
Kellene G. Safis (Chicago)
Refining the rhythm and pulse through a definitive American lens.
Digital Editing & Formatting:
Cathy Rapakoulia Mataraga (Piraeus)
The architectural assembly and final form at the Great Port.
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 ELEGHOS... at history 

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