“
My Serinity,
Thee, my serenity, one can not bear,
Seeing thee befuddled, bereaved,
Dimmed like the midnight, secluded, darkened,
Thee, my serenity,
A window to my eyes,
A window to laughter, and peace of mind,
Thee, my serenity, one can not bear,
Seeing thee wail, whine, cry,
Like a gloomy, mourning brume,
Thee, my serenity,
Soared through fervor and delight,
To the crown of heavens, the Almighty Myth,
One can not bear,
Seeing thee prostrate, razed, demure,
Upon the dimmed streets, crawling,
...more
”
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In fact, I would argue that these mythic modes are more easily identifiable in historiographical than they are in 'literary' texts. For historians usually work with much less linguistic (and therefore less poetic) self-consciousness than writers of fiction do. They tend to treat language as a transparent vehicle of representation that brings no cognitive baggage of its own into the discourse.
...more
”
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