PHILOSOPHERS OF THE GARDEN


Far away,
In depths of rumors and imagination
Exists a mystic land.
A land of epic heroes and saintly martyrs,
Of truth and beauty scarce.
A garden it is,
Where destiny and nature rule,
Where wisdom and love
Coexist with valour and brotherhood,
Where blindness and hatred
Confront cowardice and strife.
An emblem of mystery,
It embodies perfect balance
Between Chaos and Order.


Within this eternal bloom
Lives a flower of the past and future--
Epicurus, Master of the Art;
Immortality reverent of his Wisdom,
Mortality yet hovering, indecisive. . .
The Power of Knowledge radiates pure
>From the Philosopher in the Garden.


Epicurus the Learned guides the common men
Along the rugged road to destiny,
A turbulent highway transcending life itself.
They do become themselves philosophers,
Those who trod the treacherous paths,
We, who seek the light that Epicurus shines down upon us,
We live in a land of thought--
Humble philosophers we are,
In the ethereal garden of existence.


This is the divine land of which I speak,
Welcome to the dreams of Achaea.

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Miraman, in the year 201 AF.