Too Much of A Good Thing

The True History of Heaven and Hell
By Nicholas of Corinth (I hope I’ve done well)



In the year now known as 1380 B.C.
I vacationed on an island in the Aegean Sea
It was ordinary as far as vacationing goes
Until a spaceship landed thirty feet from my toes

I knew a story was unfolding, but what would it entail?
The spaceship’s door opened and out stepped a human male
He greeted us in Greek – the surprise was clear from my face
I asked him how he knew Greek if he was from outer space
The fact that he wasn’t from Earth was absolutely clear
Since I knew the first airborne earthlings would live around here
And ships were the only method we had of quick cruisin’
He couldn’t be Hellenic, so there was one possible conclusion
But if that was true, why did he look so much like I did?
To ask him that question in Greek was what I decided
To do but he just babbled in some very foreign tongue
Until an artist who happened to be among
Us spoke through the universal language of drawing
Which lasted for hours, after which I saw things
Which, to say the least, came as quite a surprise
As far as I know it is all true, no lies
And here’s a bit of trivia you might want to know
The artist later adopted the name of Apollo

A cause of confusion at the initial meeting
Is that his word for shock was mine for greeting
He came from a planet slightly smaller than our own
Which, for reasons that are not fully known
Has the same climate as the third planet from our sun
Which let humanity develop independently on each one

The reason he showed up by the shore
Was that his planet’s thinkers figured out how to cure
Every disease that can afflict mankind
With a synthetic orb that he said we could find
Forty of in his spaceship – but that’s not all he said
They could halt the aging process and revive the dead
Which is not something a truly wise man endorses
Since prolonging life doesn’t create natural resources

Soon there was little room to move and less food to eat
Everybody was alive but all lives were incomplete
Except on an island where hundreds had gone
When they realized the dangers of living on and on
When the orbs were made, so they lived and they died
And in each generation, there were some who tried
To figure out how to help the poor souls living where
There were orb-wielding activists who just did not care
How bad life had become – it could not be lost
It had to be preserved at whatever the cost