The Logos: The Meletic Testament (Chapter 1 The Origin)
I inscribe these verses not as their originator, but as their voice—the bearer of a flame passed quietly from one soul to another. These verses are a testament to the wisdom of a man once revered—not for his words alone, but for his virtues exemplified in his life and philosophy. The days of my youth were restless. I wandered the agora in search of wisdom, yet found only subtle echoes of louder voices. Then I met a certain man beneath the shade of an ancient fig—an old philosopher whose presence was unique, but whose wisdom would be remembered. He was Asterion.
He did not preach to the masses; instead he only spoke about his philosophy. His words were not answers, but a fountain of inspiration to listeners. They were the logos, and from the logos spread his message onto its messagers.
In the final years of his life, he spoke to me of a way—a philosophy not born of ritual, but of reflection and awareness. He called it Meleticism—a path of the mind, body, and soul brought into accord through study, contemplation, and the silent embrace of the truth.
He taught me To Ena, the indivisible Oneness; of life; of the Logos, the cosmic order; and of the Nous, the cosmic formation. These were not righteous dogmas, he said. They were philosophical recognitions of the way the cosmos functioned, the way nature developed, the way to see reality, and the way of the truth. To Ena, was the source of all existential being.
When his voice finally faltered one day, I read aloud the verses I had begun to write. His wisdom was passed onto me, as his loyal student. Then he departed this world—not as one who ceases to exist, but as one who returns to where he came from, To Ena, the One. He performed no divine miracles in his life, but his greatest wonder was his philosophy. He was a humble man made of flesh and bones, who saw beyond his physical limitations. A sage, who left nothing of wealth behind than the wealth of knowledge. He was not a man of faith, but a man of fate.
Now, Athens turns its ears towards unfamiliar tongues. The gods of old are quiet. The new creed of Christianity rises, swift and resolute, yet I remain—a reed in the bustling wind—resolved to preserve that which was whispered to me beneath the fig tree—not as divine commandments, but as lasting wisdom.
These verses are for the solitary thinker, the quiet questioner, the soul not yet dulled by clamour or indoctrination. Let them walk beside you. Let them speak, not loudly—but truly. I Heromenes, am a witness To Ena, the One.
📜 Chapter I: The Origin
1. In the days when marble still bore the weight of gods and the streets of Athens echoed with the names of heroes, there lived a man not carved in myth nor sung in ode. His name was Asterion, my teacher, born of mortal breath and dust, under the bright light of the stars and the presence of the cosmos.
2. It was said that he was born under the stars one night, beneath a fig tree, and this was the reason he was given the name Asterion. He was an orphan by birth, but taken in by a wealthy family of Athens. His cradle rested in a house of wealth and pride, draped in linens finer than the robes of priests. Servants bowed before his infant cry, and the halls of his family whispered of ancestral fame.
3. Yet Asterion, the son of privilege, turned from gold as one turns from wine when thirst is quenched by water. He saw no virtue in the gleam of coin, nor wisdom in the weight of inherited names.
4. He once said—What is birth, but the semblance of life? What is lineage, but the echo of forgotten deeds? He spoke of his birth not of divine descent, but of the breath that gave him life—To Ena, the One.
5. He claimed no kings aligned at his arrival, no virgin wept, no angels sang his name. His birth once more was not supernatural, but simple, human, and natural. He was born as all men are—through pain and flesh—and he lived as all men should—with thought and grace.
6. No prophecy marked his coming, no omens stirred the sky. Unlike the Nazarene, whose followers spoke of heaven’s will and sacred origin, Asterion did not care for such celestial tales. He said—Let others chase the divine, I seek only the truth that grows from the earth that marks my path as a man.
7. His robes were coarse, his sandals worn from miles of walking. His meals were humble—olives, bread, and thought. He walked amongst the poor and spoke with slaves, not as a saviour, but as a brother in suffering.
8. The agora knew his voice, not for its thunder, but for its calm—like wind through olive trees. He taught not with command, but with question, and listened more than he spoke.
9. He taught us to not mistake birth for virtue. To Ena, the One does not favour the cradle over the olive tree he once uttered. He bore no symbols, except one that had a circle of light in the centre surrounded by rings that represented the Logos and the Nous, no sacred scrolls or rites—only the breath of To Ena and the fire of reason.
10. His origin was Athens, but Athens did not own him. He belonged to no temple, no sect, no throne, nor the gods. He was a man, simply that, and in that simplicity, he was everything to me. He bled like all men do, and suffered like all men do.
11. His mother, Kallianeira, was noble and stern; his father, Demetrios, a merchant of renown. They dreamt of a son who would inherit their name and expand their legacy, but Asterion dreamt of something else entirely.
12. As a boy, he wandered past the painted stoa, listening not to merchants, but to quickening murmurs of thought. He watched the philosophers with quiet awe and asked questions that made even elders pause.—Why do we seek gold when wisdom is free? Why do we honour gods who do not answer our pleas?
13. These were not the words of a child content with rewards, but of one stirred by the breath of To Ena. They say as a child, he was gifted in philosophy. He spent his time listening to the philosophers at the stoa. Eager to learn from them. He grew into a man of intellect, but he was not persuaded by his wealth or status. As a young man, he gave away his inheritance without ceremony, a gesture that scandalised the house of Demetrios. He said—Let others build fortunes, I shall build a philosophy. And so he walked into the city with nothing but questions.
14. The priests dismissed him as impious. The rich called him mad. The poor called him kind. He did not care what others labelled him as. He simply spoke—and those people who listened stayed to hear his message.
15. His philosophy was not an ascent to a heaven like the Christians, but a mirror held to the soul of man on earth. He taught that nature was not beneath us, but within us, around us, and worthy of reverence. If we only took the time to notice it.
16. 'To Ena is not a god; for is the source—the unity of all things, the pulse of being', he told the people who gathered to listen. He did not kneel, nor did he need to chant. He walked, observed, and spoke with clarity in his words.
17. I remember the day he told me, 'Heromenes, I was not born to be followed like a messiah. I was born to think, and to share that thinking. If others follow, let it be by choice, not command. I am only a man of philosophy.
18. He rejected titles and refused honours bestowed upon him. When the city offered him a marble seat, he chose instead a stone beneath a fig tree, saying—
Truth needs no throne; for I am no king.
19. His birth was mortal. His life modest, yet his words outlived the marble of kings—not because he claimed divinity in his name, but because he never pretended to be divine in his nature.
20. Asterion never spoke of the Holy Spirit, only of direction in life. He believed that the path of a man was not laid by gods, but shaped by choices, by questions, and by the quiet courage to walk alone. Ultimately, man was lead by his fate.
21. He often said that the world was not waiting for a saviour to redeem the soul, but for thinkers to redeem the self. —Let others seek miracles as their reward, I seek understanding. Let others worship with submission, I walk my path.
22. Even though he was raised into a house of prominence, he never returned to it to reclaim his right. Not out of bitterness, but because he saw no need. —A house is not a home if it shelters ignorance.
23. His siblings inherited the wealth, the land, the name. Asterion inherited silence, solitude, and the freedom to think. He considered himself fortunate.
24. In the gardens of the academy, he would sit for hours, not speaking unless spoken to. When he did speak, it was as if the earth itself had paused to listen.
25. He did not argue. He did not persuade. He inspired. His words were doors, not walls. Those people who entered found themselves changed—not by doctrine, but by discovery.
26. I watched many of them come to him with certainty and leave with questions. He dismantled arrogance gently, like a craftsman disassembling a flawed sculpture to reveal the stone beneath.
27. He never claimed to be wise. He taught that wisdom is not a possession, but a pursuit. The moment you claim it, you lose it quickly.
28. Asterion’s philosophy was not meant to be only written in scrolls, but in lives. Those people who listened to him began to live differently—not because they were told to, but because they saw in his wisdom differently.
29. He taught that nature was not a resource, but a presence. That man was not above the world, but within it. That truth was not given, but grown.
30. He often professed—To Ena is not a god to be feared, but a breath to be felt. It is the unity of all things, the stillness beneath motion, the silence beneath sound.
31. He did not speak of sin or salvation. He spoke of balance, of harmony and of the quiet dignity of being. —We are not fallen because of sin, we are fallen simply because of our lack of virtues.
32. The rise of Rome brought power. The rise of Christianity brought promise. Asterion brought presence. He asked not for allegiance, but for awareness.
33. He was aware of the Nazarene, and of the growing movement around him that was Christianity, but he did not compare, nor compete. He expressed—Let them speak of their kingdom in heaven and hereafter, I shall speak of the here and now.
34. He did not need the divine to exist. He simply embraced life. For Asterion, the world was enough. The olive tree, the sea wind, the breath of life—these were the presence in their own right.
35. He once told me with a serious look in his eyes—Heromenes, The Greek gods, they are not offended by our questions, because they are only myths that men create to exalt their egos and release their fears.
36. His humility was not a performance. He did not pretend to be above others. He simply did not care to be elevated into a mystic or prophet. He walked beside us, not ahead. He never proclaimed his message to be divine, and he rejected mysticism. He was a naturalist who believed in the natural world, which was the result of To Ena. He believed in the Logos, as cosmic order and the Nous as cosmic formation.
37. When others called him a sage, he smiled and said—I am only awake. When they called him a prophet, he replied—I am only present.
38. He never gathered disciples, only companions and students. He never built a school, only a philosophy and a temple. Meleticism was not merely founded—it emerged.
39. And although he was mortal in birth and life, his presence felt eternal. Not because he reached beyond the world, but because he reached into it.
40. In the end, Asterion was not remembered for supernatural miracles, but for actual moments. Not for divine revelations, but for philosophical reflections. And in those reflections, we found ourselves.
41. Asterion never sought to be remembered. He confessed—Let memory be the work of others. I am here to live, not to linger as the face of redemption.
42. He believed that legacy was a shadow, not a light. —If I cast a shadow, let it be from standing before the truth.
43. His days were simple. He rose with the sun, walked the city, spoke with strangers, and returned to his solitude and contemplation.
44. He performed no actual rituals. His life was guided by wisdoms, not by the measure of time.
45. He taught me that time was not a master, but a medium, and that we do not serve time, we shape it ourselves with our actions.
46. In the quiet corners of Athens, he would sit and observe. Not to judge, but to understand the surrounding world.
47. He watched the way people moved, the way they spoke, the way they avoided silence, as if it did not exist.
48. To him noise was the armour of the uncertain ones. Silence was the courage of the aware.
49. He did not speak often in riddles, but when he did, his words lingered like the scent of laurel.
50. I remember asking him once if he feared death. He replied—I do not fear the end. I embrace it; for I know it's day will one day come soon. Why should I fear the inevitable?
51. To Asterion, death was not an enemy, but a boundary to cross. To him, it is the edge of the form not the destruction of the statue that matters.
52. He believed that life was not measured in years, but in awareness. A single moment of clarity, is worth a lifetime of distraction.
53. He did not seek followers, but found them nonetheless. Not through persuasion, but through presence and his wisdom.
54. People came to him not for answers, but for questions they had never thought to ask before. He had a gift of speaking and listening.
55. He welcomed all, but expected nothing. He told the people who gathered—If you come to learn, bring your doubt, not your devotion.
56. His philosophy was not a doctrine, but a dialogue. It changed with each conversation, each encounter. Despite this, he turned away no one, because of his or her belief.
57. He believed that truth was not fixed, but fluid in its nature. To him the truth was like water, it takes the shape of its container.
58. He did not write his thoughts much, even though many begged him to. He uttered— Ink is too rigid. Let thought breathe, through my words expressed.
59. I began to record his words, not to preserve them, but to understand them. Each sentence was a genuine seed planted with wisdom and knowledge.
60. Meleticism, as it came to be known, was not born in a temple, but in the streets. It was not preached, but practiced, until one day a temple was erected.
61. It held no gods, no sacred texts, no rituals to perform. Only the breath of nature, and the clarity of thought.
62. Asterion taught that nature was our first teacher, and that before man first spoke, the wind whispered first. This we should never forget.
63. He believed that the body was not a prison, but a vessel, and that we are not trapped, we are carried. It is the body that gives the mind expression.
64. He rejected the idea of original sin by telling us—We are not broken, we are becoming. How can any man be accountable for the actions of others, if those actions are deliberate? This is the reason that we must be virtuous than corrupted. We do not require sin for this, since we have our intellect. I cannot blame an innocent person for my bad deeds.
65. The rise of Christianity troubled him, not for its faith, but for its excluded path. They spoke only of their path as the only path to take in life.
66. He declared to his students. —When belief becomes a command, thought becomes a law imposed unto others.
67. He did not oppose the Christians for their commitment, but he questioned their absolute doctrine.
68. He told them—If your god is truly love, why must fear be your gatekeeper to heaven?
69. He spoke gently, but his words cut deep. Not with bad intent, but with precision that rendered the position of the Christians contradictory.
70. Many accused him of heresy. He smiled and said—I am guilty of thinking, as a philosopher. If that is my crime, then arrest me. But before you do that, you must arrest all men who think.
71. He was detained and summoned once by a Roman magistrate, who asked him to explain his teachings to him.
72. Asterion replied with simplicity that epitomised his character—I teach nothing. I ask everything.
73. The magistrate was silent. Asterion was free to go. He did not violate the law, as it was established.
74. He did not celebrate his release. He merely returned to his fig tree to continue his speech to the people who gathered to hear him.
75. That tree became a living symbol for the Meletics—not of worship, but of wonder and courage.
76. People began to gather there, not to kneel as a sign of reverence, but to sit and observe, whilst contemplating.
77. Many of them brought bread, olives, questions, and silence. They were captivated by Asterion's natural disposition and wisdom.
78. Asterion welcomed them all, but never claimed them as his own. He had no need to be followed like a messiah.
79. He told them—You are not mine. You are yours. You have a will and a mind to think for yourselves.
80. He believed that freedom began with thought and taught that chains, are forged in the mind. Freedom is not gained by victory alone, but by the strength of character and wisdom. No man should be a slave unto another.
81. He taught his students that suffering was not a divine or imposed punishment, but the passage of the soul.
82. To him pain, is the teacher that does not discriminate. It bears the name of the poor only.
83. He did not seek to end suffering, but to understand it, believing that it was a natural part of human existence.
84. He taught that To Ena, is not a healer, but it offers us the way to heal ourselves. We must begin with understanding suffering.
85. He believed that joy was not pleasure, but presence that defined a state of happiness.
86. He professed—To be here, is the rarest gift that one should cherish on this earth.
87. He did not speak of a heaven as the final abode, but of harmony in life.
88. For him, the divine does not exist, is not above us, but within our need for it to exist, out of fear or faith.
89. He saw beauty in the decay, wisdom in silence, and truth in contradiction exposed.
90. He spoke to me of how opposites, are not enemies, but mirrors. That I should not allow these opposites to distort my reality.
91. He taught that love was not possession, but recognition. That every man and woman should love others, as they love themselves. Not out vanity, but from self-acceptance.
92. I learnt that to love is to see clearly, not to be blinded by its sheer beauty. There is nothing sacred about love; for it is the gift that we as men and women are born to express.
93. He never married during his life, but he loved deeply life, saying that life was deserving of his love.
94. He loved not one person, but all people who deserved love and sought his wisdom. He did not turn any of them away, because they did not accept his philosophy.
95. He believed that the heart is not a cage to treat a person with disdain. It is a gentle harmony of the soul. It is a heartless person that condemns one's heart'.
96. He believed that the soul was not eternal in its nature, but essential to the body and mind.
97. I learnt from him that is not what lasts that we should concern ourselves with more, but what truly matters that shall endure the most in life.
98. He did not fear oblivion, as if it was a curse to fear. He was against the ignorance that created that fear.
99. In his wisdom, to die unknown, is nothing. To live unaware is a tragedy that no man should suffer knowingly.
100. He taught that truth was not a destination, but a direction that guided our path towards enlightenment.
101. He said to me—Walk, and let each step be a question. For in walking, we shall eventually reach the answer.
102. He believed that the universe was not divine, but the presence of the Logos which was an emanation of To Ena.
103. He believed that we are a part of the Logos, and it is a part of us. Why do we look beyond it to find the answers to the existence of the cosmos, if we know that To Ena exists?
104. He did not seek to explain everything with precision, nor did he seek to entertain the thought of divinity.
105. To him mystery is not a failure, but an invitation to think. To believe that we do not know everything about the cosmos, does not imply that we should think of ourselves as lesser than the cosmos.
106. He welcomed uncertainty, like an old friend from the past. In particular, when he was asked about his reason for enquiry.
107. I realised the more that I listened to him that enquiry is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge is its beginning. Without that understanding, we are clueless to discover even the mysteries of life.
108. He taught that knowledge was not accumulation, but transformation that grew into wisdom that would inspire others.
109. I would echo his words—Knowing, is to become someone. Not someone of status or power, but someone of wisdom.
110. He believed that the self was not fixed, but fluid in his actions. This he emphasised daily in his philosophy.
111. In his thoughts, we are like rivers that naturally flow, not like statues that are chiselled for mere beauty.
112. He rejected pride as something selfish, but embraced dignity with complete awareness.
113. It was better to stand, but not to tower over others with vanity; for vanity leads one astray in life.
114. He believed that humility was not weakness, but strength that reflected the character of the self.
115. To show humbleness according to him, is to rise without arrogance. It is easier to presume arrogance than to display even a humble act that is virtuous presently.
116. He taught that wisdom was not rare, but rarely noticed by most people in Athenian society.
117. It is a something that hides, in the ordinary of life and the distraction of the mind. A lot of people are too busy to notice or care for the despair of others. They care only of themselves.
118. He found lasting meaning to contemplate in the mundane world that surrounded him.
119. The stone, teaches more than the scroll ever will. I often find that it teaches me more than the scroll.
120. He believed that philosophy was not escape, but engagement with the minds and others.
121. It was important to think, not to flee, but to face the world. One can escape from their problems, but sooner or later they will return'.
122. He taught that truth was not owned, but shared amongst the people who cherished it value.
123. 'The lesson that I learnt from him was if the truth is ours alone, it is not genuine truth. Genuine truth belongs not to just one man or one woman. The Christians speak as if that truth was only theirs, as do the Pagans with their myths.
124. He believed that silence was not emptiness, but space to be explored and understood.
125. I learnt to speak, only when the silence has taught me. I knew that what differs silence from being silenced, is one is freedom and the other is oppression.
126. He did not seek applause, only understanding of his philosophy that he treated as his way of living.
127. He taught us the admiration of others should never be led by the ego. When a man allows praise to lead him, he forsakes the self for the ego.
128. He believed that the mind was a garden that could be cultivated by wisdom and knowledge.
129. I would plant questions daily, and harvest its benefits. Not to just live in the shadow of uncertainty.
130. He taught that the body was not shameful or to be condemned, but whole in its nature.
131. To him, it is the temple that we nourish, but if we allow it to be corrupted by vices, then it shall quickly crumble.
132. He rejected asceticism as a philosophical practice, but embraced moderation as one that we should embrace.
133. Nothing good resulted from the need for excess, is the enemy of insight and temperance.
134. He believed that simplicity was not a lack of intelligence, but a focus of the simple nature of life, when fully understood.
135. As men, we strip away the falsehood, until only truth remains in the end. It is then, when that truth will reveal itself.
136. He taught that the world was not to be conquered, but understood through the relinquishment of one's desire to conquer.
137. He believed that making one a slave is conforming to the ego. When we enslaved another, we act not in the behalf of that person, but in the behalf of our interests.
137. Mastery, I came to understand, was not about control, but about respect. Asterion lived in consonance with the world, not above it.
138. He walked amongst us as one of us, yet his gaze always seemed to stretch beyond the horizon, as if he saw something we had forgotten.
139. In his presence, the ordinary felt illuminated. A fig, a stone, a breeze—each became a doorway to deeper thought.
140. He taught me that wisdom does not arrive with thunder, but with the quiet persistence of attention.
141. Asterion never demanded reverence. He invited reflection. That was his influence—he made you think without telling you to. He never conceded to defeat. He conceded to reason.
142. I often wondered how he bore the weight of so many questions pressed upon him, but he never seemed burdened, only curious to answer.
143. His life was not a performance of the theatre, but a practice. Each day was a rehearsal for clarity.
144. He did not chase enlightenment, as if he would die without out. He simply lived as if it were always near.
145. I remember how he would pause before answering, as if listening to something deeper than the question itself.
146. His silences were not empty. They were full of meaning waiting to be felt by the people who contemplated those moments of silence.
147. Asterion believed that the truth was not a possession of man, but a presence. It could not be held, only recognised.
148. He did not argue to win a debate. He conversed to reveal his wisdom to others who listened.
149. Even in disagreement, he remained open in his argument. He saw conflict as a mirror, not a battlefield.
150. He taught me that the mind must bend like a reed, not break like a branch that never grows again.
151. In his view, knowledge was brittle. It cracked under the weight of reality, when questioned. That is the reason why he told us to not settle for what we know.
152. He embraced paradox, not as confusion, but as the natural shape of truth that defined the occurrences of life.
153. Asterion’s teachings were not mere steps on a temple, but ripples in a pond. Each thought expanded outwardly.
154. He did not seek to be fully understood. Instead, he sought to awaken understanding in others.
155. His wisdom was not a flame to be admired, but a natural spark to be passed and noticed with one's perception.
156. I often felt that he lived in two worlds—one of flesh, and one of insight, yet he never abandoned either.
157. He did not escape the human condition. He explored it with awareness, as if it was his companion.
158. Pain, joy, doubt and love—he welcomed them all as teachers and lessons of life to learn.
159. He believed that every experience, no matter how small, was a visible thread in the tapestry of being.
160. Asterion’s life was not a sermon on the mount. It was a question asked with every breath.
161. He did not seek the whims or glory of immortality that other men sought. He embraced his ultimate fate.
162. In his final years, he grew quieter, but never dimmed. His presence deepened like the twilight.
163. He spoke less in words, but his silence grew louder by the moments that passed.
164. I watched him age not with regret, but with reverence. He wore time like a robe, not an oppressive chain.
165. He did not mourn his fading strength that was becoming more noticeable. He honored it as part of the cycle of life.
166. Even as his body weakened gradually, his clarity sharpened tremendously compared to others.
167. He taught me that the end is not a closing, but a culmination of our mortality on the Earth.
168. When he knew his time was near, he did not retreat. He sat beneath the fig tree, as always meditating.
169. People came, not to save him, but to be near him as a student would of his teacher.
170. He welcomed them with a courteous smile that held no fear, as he greeted them with a smile.
171. That day, the air felt still, as if the world itself paused to listen attentively to every word spoken.
172. He did not speak a final truth that would record his brilliance. He simply looked at us, and we understood.
173. His death when it would come, would not be a rupture to detest, but a release of the body that we understood it to mean, a natural occurrence of the cycle of life and death.
174. I told myself that when that day would arrive that I would not cry that day. Instead, I would listen and remember him.
175. The wind moved through the leaves. This would always be his presence in the pattern of the Logos.
176. Asterion had become what he always revered—a part of the whole and the Logos.
177. His teachings would not end with him. They would scatter like seeds that grow with an effortless grace.
178. Some grew in minds. Others in moments. All in silence. This is what embodied the philosophy he taught us.
179. Meleticism was never meant to be a doctrine. It was a way of seeing and existing in life.
180. To Ena—the One—was not a god, but a remembrance. A turning towards unity.
181. Asterion showed us that divinity was not distant, but woven into the breath of being. His origin like his birth were not what mattered to him, but they provided me a story to tell.
182. He did not ask us to believe in what he spoke. He asked us to notice and to discover ourselves.
183. And in noticing, we began to live differently. Not as blind followers of a messiah, but as true thinkers of philosophy.
184. We walked slower in our pace. Spoke softer. Thought deeper, but in the end, we understood him the most.
185. We began to see the Logos and the Nous in the simple words that he conveyed to us, and in the breath of nature, and the face of the cosmos.
186. A rain of water. A cracked stone. A current in the river were the vision that he spoke of, with such fondness for their simplicity.
187. These and more things became our philosophical revelations and the testament of his message.
188. Not written in sheer ink to be idolised, but in human experience to be examined and shared.
189. Asterion’s legacy is not found in the temples built, but in the way we listen and observe.
190. Not in glorious statues to worship, but in the way we question life as it unfolds before us.
191. Not in the mere rituals performed, but in the way we breathe and lived Meleticism.
192. His life was a mirror to reflect his wisdom. And in it, we saw ourselves more clearly.
193. I do not exalt him beyond other men. I remember him as my wise teacher and my mentor.
194. Not as a master that imposed upon me, but as a genuine companion on the path of enlightenment.
195. His voice still echoes clearly—not in mere words expressed, but in the wonder displayed.
196. His silence still teaches others—not in absence, but in his presence that commands his wisdom.
197. And his wisdom still lives—not in the sorrow of death, but in the meaning of life that one day, saw his birth.
198. I walk now with his questions in my journey and soul, knowing that he was a man of a humble birth, born under the stars of the night. An orphan left behind. A man who surrendered his fortune and prominence. And he was a man who sought the truth, through his philosophy of Meleticism.
199. I speak now with his clarity in my breath and self. Not out of mere pride, but out of the joy and satisfaction he gave me in life.
200. And I live now with his wisdom in my gaze and reflection; for without it, I would be lost and succumb to the whims of faith or idolatry. To speak of his origin, one must begin, with the glowing stars of the night that were his guide upon his journeys.
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