The World in the lens of Mythology and Science

  Abject: from the Latin abiectus, which is the past participle of 'abicere', meaning to cast away, degrade, lower into the depths.  The Abject Path As I stumbled through the street, a field of Erebus—vexuous black tendrils—wafted across my path. The once-vibrant hollow now lay in desolation, its heartbeat extinguished by the relentless march of the undead. Their pallid faces, etched with hunger, moved like shadows against the crumbling facades. The abject light of their eyes pierced my soul. Each step I took, the gaity of my existence waned, replaced by a gnawing dread. I had witnessed the folly of humanity—the arrogance that birthed this cataclysm. We had danced on the precipice of our own demise, and now the abyss yawned wide. The undead, once our kin, shuffled toward me. Their decay mirrored our collective decay—the rot of morality, the erosion of compassion. They were not monsters; they were the remnants of our hubris. Their existence mocked our fleeting mortality. “Survi

"A Pebble by Your Door” : In my ongoing book, the mighty Greek god Zeus takes center stage. Recently, I enlisted the assistance of the artificial intelligence platform CoPilot to transform a passage from my work into captivating art. The result? A truly magnificent creation. The Epic Battle : Zeus and his fellow Olympian deities waged a fierce war against their own progenitors—the formidable Titans. Their battleground? The cosmos itself, a realm teetering on the precipice of control. The Titans, ancient and powerful, sought dominion over the universe. But the Olympians, led by Zeus, stood resolute, determined to seize their rightful place among the celestial pantheon. The Greaves of Victory : In this remarkable artwork, Zeus dons the greaves of his father, Chronos. These shin protectors, once forged for combat, have been transformed into ceremonial adornments—a testament to the victor’s triumph. Greaves, traditionally crafted from brass, shielded warriors from blade and spear atta

We never want to win the solemn stone of eternity to rest our weary bones; unless we yell at the winds, ‘I too can reach out for Doom!’ in a constant battle against Death. Our souls wait for the divine word, ‘Rise up ye heavenly host! Greet our morning God with ‘hello’ and behold our reunion with breath, once more, restored upon the plinth of rock, we called home.   April 10 th , in the year of our Lord, 2024 In memory of Donald Berquist   Hello We never want to win the solemn stone of eternity to rest our weary bones; unless we yell at the winds, ‘I too can reach out for Doom!’ in a constant battle against Death. Our souls wait for the divine word, ‘Rise up ye heavenly host! Greet our morning God with ‘hello’ and behold our reunion with breath, once more, restored upon the plinth of rock, we called home.   April 10 th , in the year of our Lord, 2024