A musing on the myth of Atlantis.

The great poet Keats wrote, "A thing of beauty is a joy forever; its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness ..."

I may have gotten the exact words wrong, since I'm quoting from a memory of a poem learned long ago in high school English class, but I know I've remembered the spirit of what Keats was saying. To his words I would only add, a thing of beauty is never forgotten. Its memory vibrates on through time, refusing to be erased.

That's the way I feel about Atlantis. If you've come to read this article looking for scientific proof, look elsewhere. The proof I have is the proof of the heart and the knowledge stored deep within our bones. The Earth is old, far older than we dream, and we are arrogant indeed if we believe the few civilizations we call "history" are the only ones that this world has ever seen.

Others have written books detailing the evidence from ancient records and maps to batteries found in the ruins of Middle Eastern cities. I'll only say that something deep inside me remembers Atlantis. And when I see the sea,  my first thoughts are always of that once great city lost beneath its waves.

As my tribute to the memory of Atlantis, I wrote a book, a work of fiction and a fantasy, true , but it contains my vision of an island realm of incredible wonder, now lost to us all.  That book is called Dayspring Dawning.

And I wrote a poem:

Drowned beneath the waters,
beyond the reach of light
Atlantis lies adreaming
through dark, eternal night.

Strewn before her altars
bones glisten in the gloom
where priests beseeched the gods
for rescue from their doom.

Amid the crumbled towers
her restless spirit sleeps
and dreams of former glory
now swallowed in the deeps.

The heavy waters press
a weight upon her walls.
The sea absorbs the sound
a stone makes when it falls.

While men forget her name,
ah, thus Atlantis dies,
and gentle drifts of sand
conceal her from our eyes.