Interlude: Trying to be a Poet

In the busy tavern of Athens, two men were sitting in the corner of the place, drinking and eating refreshments as they talked. One man looked old, while the other looked rather young, but they were seemingly out of it.

“Excellence is never an accident my friend. It is always the result of high intention, sincere effort, and intelligent execution; it represents the wise choice of many alternatives - choice, not chance, determines your destiny.” said the old man, he looked quite drunk.

“Thank you for your praise my friend, but I must admit, I’m not suitable for this sort of thing, I’m a bit pessimistic.“ said the young man.

“Let me see your writing.” said the old man. He grabbed a scroll that was beside the young man, and open it.

Once he opened it, he read the content loudly.

“What is darkness but lurking sun?

What is a wall but enslaved stone?

What is glass but tortured sand?

What is a song but a call to arms?

What is hate but jilted love?

What is life but death pending?”

The old man stared confusingly at the young man. “Err… you are quite pessimistic.”

The young man shrugged. “I told you, I’m not talented at these things.”

The old man sighed. “Pluto, with enough practice, you could do it.”

Pluto chuckled. “You’re not even a poet Aristotle, you’re just an old man speaking nonsense in front of people.”

“I prefer the term ‘lectures’.” said Aristotle. “Come on Pluto, I will set up a gathering so you could show off your poetry skills, this is good, you should expand it.”

“Really?” Pluto raised his eyebrow. “No, it is a stupid desicion.”

“It’s already been arranged,” said Aristotle. “You must go.”

Pluto’s eyebrow twitched as he heard it. “Aristotle, do not joke with me, this is simply embarrassing.”

“You have an interesting view of the world my friend.” said Aristotle. “You should let other people know. This is Athens, not Sparta, democracy runs deep inside our veins.”

“You know I came from Sparta, right?” scoffed Pluto.

“You are an honorary Athenian.” Shrugged Aristotle as he stood up. “See you tomorrow at the theatre.”

“Theatre!?” questioned Pluto as Aristotle disappeared from the tavern. Pluto sighed and looked at his poem. “Fuck me…”

—

Pluto was now standing awkwardly in front of the whole theatre. A lot of people were watching him, and Aristotle was in front of him, looking at the crowd with a smile.

“Don’t be nervous, my friend, think of the audience as but an empty husk.” whispered Aristotle to Pluto.

“I will kill you after this, Aristotle.” grumbled Pluto.

“Of course you will my friend, of course you will.” said Aristotle as he patted Pluto’s back, and ran backstage.

Pluto then coughed, clearing his throat as the gaze of the audience lingered in him.

Then he began to speak.

“Confronted by the eerie and unknown, mortals became desperate for answers.”

Pluto spoke with a rather charismatic and stern voice, as if talking about facts.

“A flock's flight made for an omen, the falling of a star a dire presage.”

“Turning to priests for interpretation when there was no reason to be found. When religion failed, men turned to science. I saw them build such vain cities, crafting machines for endless war. New questions flourished as old answers whitered.”

"What is darkness but lurking sun?”

“What is a wall but enslaved stones?”

“What is glass but tortured sand?”

“What is a song but a call to arms?”

“What is hate but jilted love?”

“What is life but death pending?"

Pluto then paused as he reached the last sentence. He looked at the audience who was curious about what Pluto was talking about. Pluto took a deep breath, and continued in a melancholic voice.

“Death.. Since Prometheus gave us fire, mortality was believed to be the Gods’ punishment. A righteous snare to keep mankind from ascending to the stars. They were all so wrong. Death is not a wicked thing, nor some holy retribution. A true punishment would be to never know it's sweet kiss. Awaken from the harshness and be born once more.”

Overall, the experience was not pleasant for Pluto as nobody clapped. Except for Aristotle of course.

Pluto then awkwardly exited the stage, when he was greeted by Aristotle’s smile.

“That was marvellous, my friend!” Exclaimed Aristotle. “Your view of death is quite an interesting one.”

“People seemed to not like it.” scoffed Pluto.

Aristotle smiled weirdly. “Are you sure?”

After Aristotle’s words, a bunch of claps could suddenly be heard from outside, it seems that they actually liked it…

“Huh…” murmured Pluto.

“People here liked hearing new things, my friend.” nodded Aristotle. “And your view on death and mortality is certainly interesting, one would think that you have experienced it yourself.”

“What?”

“Immortality.” continued Aristotle. “When you delivered your lines, you seemed to be in anguish.”

Pluto just chuckled. “It’s just your imagination.”