Location: Shire of Trisel, Trimaris

I am in my late forties, a proud husband, father, and a bard. I am a book pedlar by trade and a bookman by vocation. I am a romantic, a realist, and a Believer. I like a good joke, and a bad one even better. I admire all ladies for the innate beauty that is in each one, but my heart is sworn to the fair and gentle Lady Lorelei, who has consented to share my life and my name.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Looking At The Past Through Rose-Coloured Glasses

It's tempting, when we re-create the past,
To overlay our modern attitudes
Upon the facts; to alter them to fit
Into our preconceptions of the time
Filtering the past through modern eyes,
Discarding what won't fit the narrative,
The fantasies we build within our minds,
To tell the stories we prefer to hear.
'Cause we want the romances to be true,
History to correspond to us;
To reinforce the image we desire.
And we assume the peoples of the past
Share our values and our points of view.
Well, reality is hard to merchandise,
And history is not a fairy tale.
The past refuses to be theatre.
And yet the crowd wants to be entertained.
They want heroes, chivalrous and just,
Honourable and noble to a fault.
The truth is more red-blooded and robust.
Men were men, much as they are today,
Great and small, both noble and profane,
Doing what they must to keep their own,
By any means at hand, both fair and foul.
Still, language changes through the centuries,
And words take on new meaning over time,
The definitions shifting through the years
To paper over old hypocrisies.
Mere facts and happenings accumulate
Re-interpretations with each age.
And so, our re-enactments of the passt
Are overlaid with all the detritus
Of every age and every attitude,
Making it our challenge to connect
With the spirits of our ancestors
Despite the interference of the years.


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