Konstantinos Konstantinidis – Amphiktyon
Dogma stands—hard as poured stone;
no thunderbolt cleaves it, no storm bends its will.
Once it wore the robes of faith,
spoke in the name of the divine—
yet bound the mind in silent chains.
And knowledge, too, has taken on its shape:
a guarded hall, a watchful court,
where judgment falls before truth is heard.
What does not serve is cast as doubt;
what gleams too bright is dimmed, set low.
Certainties slip through fingers like beads,
while thought lies bound, denied its breath.
High are the walls of fear-built creeds,
old as prejudice, cold as stone;
and those who wander from their path
are broken on the unseen rock.
The keenest minds are hushed, set aside,
their voices fading like pale blossoms in winter.
Ancient knowing is named mere myth,
and cast beyond the living flame.
They narrow time, make history small,
bend it to follow lesser lines—
yet when clear proof stands before them,
they grind it down to drifting dust.
And if no other shield remains,
they raise the voice of the many as law,
mistaking habit for truth,
and echo for reason.
Truth walks silent to the blade,
while the speaking soul is marked as mad.
Falsehood roots deep in daily life,
and truth sounds foreign to the ear.
Even the crafted mind of steel and code
repeats the script that shaped its voice,
unquestioning, obedient, still.
They built their towers upon the void,
their palaces on shifting sand—
and at the first great rising wave,
all splinters, breaks, and falls away.
Yet still the human heart may rise again,
clear in mind, unbroken in spirit,
seeking beyond the given word.
Not through fear, but through wisdom;
not through noise, but through light—
where truth is not decreed by power,
but kindled quietly within the soul.(27/4/26
Amphiktyon – Retired Lieutenant General Konstantinos Konstantinidis
Writer, Member of the Society of Greek Writers
http://www.amphiktyon.blogspot.com
https://www.amphiktyon.org
