On the tiny Mediterranean island
The Greek farmer runs his plough
Through the rocky soil
When the blade of his agricultural tool
Strikes something that is not stone
But bone. On the edge of his fields
He has discovered an ancient grave.
The ancient Greeks wrote epic poems
About the giants who once walked the land,
Behemoths who battled and whose blows
Shook the earth, all before time began,
Until brave heroes brought civilization
And thus began the time of man.
The ancient Greeks would come to the island
With the giant bones they had discovered
In forest, mountain, and ancient streambed.
Huge bones which are proof that leviathans
Once walked the earth. The giant bones
Were buried with fanfare, ceremony,
And funeral rites, honoring the brutes,
Heroes and barbarians
Who shaped the fogs of history.
The archaeologists are thrilled to explore
The farmer’s fields, discovering the tangible
Evidence of the heroes and monsters
Of ancient tales. They hold the bones
In their hands, of the beasts
Of the Pleistocene, prehistoric ox, saber cat
And cave bears; the bones of giants,
The seeds of myth.
Then one excited excavator discovers a huge
Skull the size of a small automobile—
The head of a mammoth, and where
The elephant trunk ought to be there is only
An empty socket in the center
Of the forehead—the eye of the Cyclops.
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