The Wandering Bard

Legend

There's always been a core of truth

In stories, myths and tales

And many times, the yarn's so wild,

The truth inside it pales.

Consider Jason's monster fight,

Escaping Cyclops' cave.

Did its description flow out from

Finding its huge grave?

I've seen a pachyderm's great skull,

With one large central hole.

It might be thought a giant's head,

By some scared, ancient soul.

An artist's eye adds flesh to bone

And one great orb seems right.

One fears to cross its daylight path

And even more at night.

The myth of Hercules is huge,

Made bigger with each telling,

So when a hero's needed bad'

It's image that they're selling.

Consider now how grand his tale,

And how it may have grown,

How details hold the germ of truth

That might be overblown.

A strong man of majestic mien

Forged his fame in battle.

His presence in the flesh might cause

Lesser men to rattle.

His victories made the campfire rounds,

"I saw with my own eye,

He swung his cudgel lightening fast

And fifteen men would die."

The lion skin that caped his back,

Reaped from one none could kill.

Protected him from dart and sword,

With seeming mystic skill.

He drew a crew and used their skills

To make a better story.

They had their share of all the spoils,

And sheltered in his glory.

Then farther from the field of fight,

The rumors rampant ran.

'Till he swung every sword that killed,

And planned each master plan.

He burned the Hydra's bloody neck

To keep new heads from growing.

But really he stopped new recruits.

See there? Their masks are showing.

The story goes that Zeus was randy,

Wandering on the earth.

Alcmena felt His power

And in nine months gave birth.

Thus Hercules was demi-god,

Hated by his namesake.

She tried to end his infant life

With a hateful snake.

This way an origin is set

For our man of mystery.

A legend set in mythic stone

Now part of ancient history.

Richard Higley © Sept 5, 2014