This is an excerpt from a blank verse drama I started writing many years ago. The speech seems pertinent to the cause of life extension. I intend to finish it sometime in July.
Tell me, I plead, tell me who I must be.
Beneath these young stars, among the
Windblown forests covered in ashen hopes.
Sylvan spirit, daemon, unknown deity,
Come, speak, tell me if I am but the ship
Of Theseus, my being nothing but change:
And remain here in name and name alone.
Then I am hapless flux cloying the void:
Dancing, touching, and awaiting darkness.
Yet I lapse, cry, falter. No more. I must
Revive the verve mangled by small minds:
So my flame shall never lose its force,
Nor smolder weakly and bow to creeds
Untrue, made by the wrinkled idols
Of the damned, the feeble, the softhearted.
Nor shall I adopt a fool’s dreams to excuse
Dimming resolve in the face of a foe
So ancient and tireless, feckless and cruel.
If Olympus awaits, it can wait more.
What I am: soldier, scholar and Roman
Will never reach the outer bounds of me.
Not even that dreaded word, Destiny,
Can vanquish true immortality.
Take away all the idle things life brings
But cannot bring life back, even to me.
Let me live and love without legacy
Through some elixir or philosophy,
Preserve me, for I am all that I am
And rotting remains of ill-preserved deeds
Are shadows of life and its mysteries.