In the Apology, Socrates makes this assertion about the poets of ancient Greece. “For after the politicians I went to the poets both tragic and dithyrambic, and also others, expecting that I should here immediately find myself to be less wise than these. Taking up, therefore, some of their poems which appeared to me to be the most elaborately written, I asked them what was their meaning, that at the same time I might learn something from them. I am ashamed indeed, O Athenians, to tell you the truth; but at the same time it must be told. For, as I may say, all that were present would have spoken better about the things which they had composed. I discovered this, therefore, in a short time concerning the poets, that they did not effect by wisdom that which they did, but by a certain genius and from enthusiastic energy, like prophets and those that utter oracles.”
This above statement can appear to be somewhat critical of poets. One must remember the context in which this statement of Socrates was spoken. He was accused of corrupting the youth and altering the state religion. This criticism of the poet’s lack of wisdom was part of a larger dialogue in which he was showing that he was the wisest because he knows that he knows nothing, whereas all of the other members of society believed themselves to be wise (politicians, poets, artisans). This is all part of Socratic irony. Instead I would like to focus on the positive comment about the poets for the sake of this posting. A good poem or set of lyrics does seem to have been inspired by a certain genius. The poet or lyricist is like a prophet, oracle, or seer. This being said, there is a song by Candlemass which I believe to have been inspired by a genius or daemon. The words speak to my soul.
Where The Runes Still Speak
Rain and thunder, fire and wind
Come with me, I leave with the tide
I wrap my cloak closer 'round my shoulders
To keep me warm from the raging storm
The spirits are here to guide my journey
Over the edge of the world
A thousand wounds cry in my soul
Love and pain, a bleeding heart
Where the runes still speak
I 'm coming home
Where the runes still speak
Alone I stand on this stony coast
Winds of spring whisper through the trees
The grey horizon gives me life again
Ice and stone, the voices of the gods
No woman can show me where the fire burns
No preacher can tell me who I am
My blood is calling me from Asaland
I'm on my way home in the end
A homeward son will claim his heritage
walk the soil of this earth
The pen will be his mighty sword
And the truth his defense
I've traveled roads that lead to wonder
I've seen cities rise and fall
The burden, the cross of a pilgrim
I bear no more, the son is coming home
You closed the door, but I won't give
Somewhere my new life will begin
Countless treasures I shared with you
The only one left is my solitude
I would like to end by giving my interpretation of the first and second verse after the first chorus. A stony coast represents the angst that one feels due to this world seeming alien. Stone as inorganic matter and the expansiveness of the coast create the mental images that articulate this angst. Now the image goes to winds, spring, and trees which all center on life. The wind has been associated with breath or life, and the spring with a new life, being reborn, and finally the trees as forces of life that grows upwards that overpowers the mechanistic laws of gravity pulling downwards. The mental image of the “grey horizon giving life again” alters the perception of the world retreating into nothingness to an approaching numen of a god, which is now heard in the ice and stone. Then the focus is on the essential nature of the person, which can not be realized from the present religious institutions, “No preacher can tell me who I am”, to the perfection and realization which cannot be found in woman, “No woman can show me where the fire burns”. There is the passion and eros found in the flame of romantic love, but this is weak compared to the divine fire of the gods, which is illustrated in “My blood is calling me from Asaland”. If one takes the etymology of Asaland it is broken into asa and land, the word asa comes from Aesir, which are a race of gods in Norse mythology. I see this as saying that my whole being (blood) is calling me from the land of the Gods (Asaland). I am no longer in angst from being in a world which is devoid of meaning, but on the path to my eternal home. The question is when I will be able to say with assurance and a truthful realization, “cursum perficio”.
This above statement can appear to be somewhat critical of poets. One must remember the context in which this statement of Socrates was spoken. He was accused of corrupting the youth and altering the state religion. This criticism of the poet’s lack of wisdom was part of a larger dialogue in which he was showing that he was the wisest because he knows that he knows nothing, whereas all of the other members of society believed themselves to be wise (politicians, poets, artisans). This is all part of Socratic irony. Instead I would like to focus on the positive comment about the poets for the sake of this posting. A good poem or set of lyrics does seem to have been inspired by a certain genius. The poet or lyricist is like a prophet, oracle, or seer. This being said, there is a song by Candlemass which I believe to have been inspired by a genius or daemon. The words speak to my soul.
Where The Runes Still Speak
Rain and thunder, fire and wind
Come with me, I leave with the tide
I wrap my cloak closer 'round my shoulders
To keep me warm from the raging storm
The spirits are here to guide my journey
Over the edge of the world
A thousand wounds cry in my soul
Love and pain, a bleeding heart
Where the runes still speak
I 'm coming home
Where the runes still speak
Alone I stand on this stony coast
Winds of spring whisper through the trees
The grey horizon gives me life again
Ice and stone, the voices of the gods
No woman can show me where the fire burns
No preacher can tell me who I am
My blood is calling me from Asaland
I'm on my way home in the end
A homeward son will claim his heritage
walk the soil of this earth
The pen will be his mighty sword
And the truth his defense
I've traveled roads that lead to wonder
I've seen cities rise and fall
The burden, the cross of a pilgrim
I bear no more, the son is coming home
You closed the door, but I won't give
Somewhere my new life will begin
Countless treasures I shared with you
The only one left is my solitude
I would like to end by giving my interpretation of the first and second verse after the first chorus. A stony coast represents the angst that one feels due to this world seeming alien. Stone as inorganic matter and the expansiveness of the coast create the mental images that articulate this angst. Now the image goes to winds, spring, and trees which all center on life. The wind has been associated with breath or life, and the spring with a new life, being reborn, and finally the trees as forces of life that grows upwards that overpowers the mechanistic laws of gravity pulling downwards. The mental image of the “grey horizon giving life again” alters the perception of the world retreating into nothingness to an approaching numen of a god, which is now heard in the ice and stone. Then the focus is on the essential nature of the person, which can not be realized from the present religious institutions, “No preacher can tell me who I am”, to the perfection and realization which cannot be found in woman, “No woman can show me where the fire burns”. There is the passion and eros found in the flame of romantic love, but this is weak compared to the divine fire of the gods, which is illustrated in “My blood is calling me from Asaland”. If one takes the etymology of Asaland it is broken into asa and land, the word asa comes from Aesir, which are a race of gods in Norse mythology. I see this as saying that my whole being (blood) is calling me from the land of the Gods (Asaland). I am no longer in angst from being in a world which is devoid of meaning, but on the path to my eternal home. The question is when I will be able to say with assurance and a truthful realization, “cursum perficio”.
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