Epimenides,
Two thousand six hundred years
Before now, wasn’t trying
To create a paradox.
He was chastising
His fellow Cretans
For the heresy
Of saying Zeus was mortal,
That’s all. Just a man angry
At modern impiety,
A type we still have with us.
Oblivious to context,
The apostle Paul
Would quote Epimenides
To chivvy Cretan Christians.
A century or two on,
Clement would quote Paul
Quoting Epimenides,
Writing, Cretans don’t believe
Christianity’s the truth
Because Cretans are liars.
So Zeus wasn’t immortal
After all, ironically.
Maybe Epimenides
Was the liar, and then Paul,
And so on, all those irate
Theists calling out doubters
Of the immortality
Of their historical god.
They’re all millenniums dead
Now, although their words ghost on,
The real gods, hungry whispers.
I’ll write it myself.
I’ll make it airtight.
Everything I write’s a lie.
There, now. Evil beast
With idle belly growling,
I wait here by the dry wash,
Out of resources,
But loath to leave my daughter
And still reluctant to die.
The song says “you have to lose
It all before you can find
Your way.” Your way back? Or out?
There’s no righteousness
Or anger in paradox,
Just the despair of the choice,
Just the despairing of truth.
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