In my 5th and penultimate career, I have the privilege to introduce you to an inspirational and hopefully non-deferred dream that already walks on unsteady feet on Delphi’s solid and sacred ground at the center of our threatened earth. In Delphi, projects of high purpose are developing that, if achieved, will serve humanity and planet Earth as much better enabling instruments leading to improved knowledge of self and more fulfilling lives. Heptapolis is an inspired dream and the becoming of an International Center for Arts, Letters, Science, and Technology in Delphi. It will contain many layers and dimensions that combine education, culture, and science within a distinctive aesthetic framework, all embedded in philosophy. Its deeply spiritual creator, Paul Pissanos, was born in Athens in the difficult years of enforced famine and German occupation of Greece during WWII. His goal of a lifetime, the realization of Heptapolis, is a deeply spiritual endeavor.

My friend, I ask myself

What service can someone like me perform?
Perhaps by forewarning because you are no saint Paul. Take care.
Hubris is no easy game to play for you or me.
We know the gods will always have their way.
If I get lucky perhaps I’ll get a say If you get lucky, one of the gods may grant you a special day.
Even as the Sea People once again disrupt our shores? Unchecked, offshore with no respect for maritime or moral law
Who with dreadful ease slip anchor, stealthily set sail with an alien crew?
Even so, there are no lords of space-time or celestial strings.
No overlords of complex scientific algorithms.
Your gift supreme, a gift of soul, a gift of high praise.
A gift from Paul, within man’s reach and free to all.
And where?
Close to Delphi, in range of Apollo’s ancient call.

Heptapolis: a stunning gift for our upturned world

7 Cities, then, stood fast to pass the trying test of time.
Long years ago, 7 Wonders of the World held sway in splendour did they shine.
But even Zeus could not secure Troy’s strong walls and rampanys high.
And only one of those erected then stands firm and strong today.
While the sun still sets upon the shoulder’s of a Sphinx.
While far above them all and much more refined, still stands close to the Pnyx
Beyond decay, withstanding well the wear and tear of cruel time,
Defying Venetian cannonballs, a sultan’s rage, freedom or death,
Refusing to decline, marble columns clasp the sun Forever sparkle on the eternal hill.
Mirrored in Apollo’s warming rays in imposed stillness so refined,
Under the moon serene, ahead of Apollo’s light, far above Hades and night,
Beneath a canopy of otherworldliness, Attic blue and timeless sky,
More melodic than all celestial spheres, most perfect in perspective and design.
With a gentle rise and fall, a blended balance, the alpha and omega of some golden rule.
The Giza Pyramid yet proclaims the cosmic order of our earth.
Of birth and death, spring, summer, winter. fall, the harvest’s bread,
While the Acropolis still sheds light on all harmonious life.
With stored up notions, sensations, and perceptions of the universe.

Other cities and sages

7 proud cities stood, 7 ancient sages thought;
Impenetrable walls and ramparts and penetrating philosophical thoughts,
Solon, Chilon, and Thales,
Periander, Pittakos, Priene, and Cleobulus,
Who saw far then, and through their eyes we can see far again today.
Chizzled maxims in marble inscribed for all eternity to behold,
Dedicated to Apollo, god of order, god of light,
Instilling moderation, music, and harmony all into life.

Years long gone come round again

Once upon a time, years long ago, a stage before acknowledged time
When flocking birds flew on the wind
When bee swarms cultivated long-lasting fame
Where, with the busy buzz and bird song around thyme,
Honey flowed to sweeten up Apollo’s morning work wine wine.
And gods put down their roots; vines sprang up to add blood wine.
To mark their abode exactly between eastern dawn and sunset in the west
Those were the early days the dawning of the gods
Flight paths across Gaia are long and straight straight as a crow can fly.
One eagle, as white as snow, arose in full flight and from the west
Another eagle, black, from the east, darker that lightless caves of Hades
Took off, both launched, pushed up and on by Zeus.
One going east towards the night, the other west towards the light.
Arrow-straight they flew until they met somewhere above Mount Parnassus.
The biggest bang of birds, their destiny to collide, their fateful midnight rendezvous
Feathers flew, and clouds of black and white formed to fill the midday sky.
Some feathers floated down to settle on the Omphalos.
A stone that held all knowledge of the world and more
A stone that held all nature, philosophy and law
Some feathers fell to become sharp blades of grass on fertile soil.
Enriching wonder in the fuzzy mind of men who began to philosophize.
The clash foretold of Pythian birth, an awesome role still yet to come.
Pythia then entered into Delphic life, her forte being collisions and conflict resolution.
Except for the struggles of the gods, their scuffles, fights, and brawls
Their free-for-all tore up the world.

&

Slowly then the known world reached to the gates of hell.
A world awash in darkness, and people fled by land and sea crossings.
Darkness darkened more to choke on light, and time trembled;
Slowly, understanding grew with Hesiod and Thales in the lead.
Walls of great cities felled by bugles and fair Helen’s guile
Jericho and Troy while Alexander’s death in Babylon
Carved up the world that the Ptolemy’s took so well
The psalms were translated into Greek.
How can the Delphi that we know today still remain smart?
Contain the destructive demons within the minds of men.
Retain its oracular wisdom and still guide the ambition of the blind.
If not now, what then? If not now, then when?
Will the oracle again decree that Socrates was the wisest one of all?
Will the ageless priestess remind the world of the great sage?
His wisdom wrapped in incense, gold, and myrrh.

&

Then up pipes Paul, I think we have agreed he is no saint.
Sublime he is and well past prime.
He clasps earth and sky and shakes them up.
Made a convincing deal, so no, Peitho and Pythia do not agree.
They fought him hard, but finally he brought them to their knees.
He wrestled gods upon the sacred ground.
They came around.
Be happy, boys; don't worry, girls, for Paul Pissano will, please.
Even if Apollo disagrees.
If by any remote chance my one possession becomes the aging globe
I’m sure I will bequeath its steering wheel to Pissano, Paul.
By another name, a helmsman of the earth
For in his little fingers pulses power his head begot by algorithms.
A hand that picks up punch, a thumb that plucks out plums, a fist that packs a punch
And when he shakes his little digit so, Prometheus is the first to jump.
Followed by Pythia, Peitho then Sappho.
And should his pinky wave, Delphi's digital age will begin.
When his little finger moves, the age of wisdom can be ushered in.
What presents these?
A hopeful algorithm, a dream non-deferred planted on Delphi’s sacred ground
With yet unsteady feet, yes, a new birth to counter threats of ignorance.
From the center of our threatened earth.

&

Not as in saint, but as in Paul's inspirational and long-deferred dream.
That already walks on the unsteady legs of a new creation on Delphi’s hallowed ground.
In Delphi, right at the center of our threatened world
High purpose Heptapolis will serve humanity and Earth well.
7 Cities then, 7 Cities now, code-named Heptapolis
Ομορφη πολλη library of knowledge of all things
An Odyssey for each and everyone
More leagues than Verne under the sea, more patient miles of waiting
Penelope’s anguished waiting for Odysseus’ coming home
Let’s not forget that Prometheus gave fire to man.
Something that was not his at all to give
We hope that Paul’s infinitely diverse kaleidoscopic realm of ordered light
Will generate internal and external patterns, colors, and shapes.
Cogent and cognitive insights.
But then again my friend I say beware
Within high city walls tales are trapped and stories sealed
Stone sealed stories of great sacrifice, famine and the patient wait for peace
While those who told those tales are also buried deep
Often after telling tales that should not be told
Do not fair so well in life
The solitary priest whose advice was never heard
A lonely priest who did want the Trojan horse inside the walls of Troy
Fell victim with his family too to the venom of a snake bite
So to my friend I shout, beware
Beware for those who bring the light
Can be deprived of day condemned to live in darkest night
Do not forget that even god’s who gave to man
Things not their’s to give
Spent life tormented day and night on some Caucasian height
So once again I say to Paul beware of the heady heights of hubris
Yes beware!