And on his great black steed, rode forth.
Confident he was the favorite of the gods,
In swarms of death no doubts assailed him.
Riding down upon the hosts of Persia,
His pale eyes implacable, and aflame,
He was possessed of an odd mystique -
That of mortal man assured of immortality.
Though doubt that any god will save us,
Is the firm conviction of the rational mind,
No such fears assailed young Alexander,
And in ignorance, he conquered the world.
Some mysticism remains here unrevealed,
Apart from such omens and curious lights.
In such apotheosis lies the epic mystery,
Achilles knew, when circling walls of Illium.
We may yet feel it nascent in our beings,
This ancient glimmer of the visionary self,
Or indirectly, its effects may be surmised,
Glimpsed in fires still burning in our eyes.
Copyright 2018, Brent Hightower