The Dying of Light

Through the late Ptolemaic clock
From Athens sailed aft long discourse
Arrived Hypatia at the dock
Drawn to the light-house beaming source.
 
Now gathered those who came to hear
From cities grand of fame and might
The thoughts that held her in revere
That cleared a way to bold and bright.
 
From learning shared is more coaxed out
And thus the light does breach the dark
To open doors of cast redoubt
In omnipresent void, a spark.
 
Rose the curious round each day
And spread the avid, mismatched crowd
Which tossed old givens by the way
And blew fresh breeze on dreary shroud.
 
Hypatia knew too well her place
But spurned all those grown ill-content
Who saw in pagan ways, disgrace
And burned in ever more resent.
 
While godly force about her grew
That mindless clung to certain faith
Empowered to repress the new
And feared what might be found in wraith.
 
The outraged cult upon her hard
Then dragged her to their holy court
And hacked her naked limbs with shard
So did the child of truth abort.
 
Long since the site of books had burned
And now Hypatia in the ground.
Saint Cyril smiled at what he’d earned
A thousand years his righteous crown.
 
Copyright Paul Heno 2010
 
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