Now, they say

Columbus didn’t discover America

but the ones who say

that

usually, don’t appreciate who Columbus was

They don’t know anything about him

He was a man of destiny

an explorer

willing to go to the ends of the earth

and fall off it, to find it.

What have the critics of Columbus done?

They have dyed their hair pink

They have circulated a petition to cancel his holiday

They have attempted to rewrite the history books

They have smashed his statue, as if, they have smashed the man

and destroyed his legacy.

His crew, was ready to mutiny, but he kept on going.

Weak men, hate great men—

Men, who believe they have a destiny

Men, willing to go to the ends of the earth to find it

I don’t hear anyone talking about destiny, anymore.

I hear conversations about comfort, TV, political protest

I never hear of someone who believes so strongly in what they are doing

that even the walls quake, when they go to sleep.

People are confused.

They don’t have any notion about what greatness is, anymore

but when they see it

they hate it

because it is so far away from who they are.

Your parents will tell you

to get a good job

and work your way up

but at the end of the day

you don’t have anything to show for it.

Columbus discovered America.

Sure, he thought he had discovered the West Indies,

but destiny, is messy.

Doing what your boss tells you to do, isn’t.

There’s a difference

between destiny and doormat.

The ones in charge will try to convince you otherwise.

What is the point of this poem?

It’s not about Columbus.

It’s about the people who don’t know, and pretend to know

It’s about those people quietly wasting their lives, and trying to convince themselves, otherwise

It’s about recognizing greatness

in yourself

and knowing, that it doesn’t matter

if they name a day after you,

or not.

Greatness needs no introduction

no explanation.

It is the ultimate satisfaction.

I tell people this

and it’s like I’m speaking Greek

because the Greeks believed you could have a short life full of Heroic deeds

or a long life, that ended quietly.

I want the life of Achilles,

and the chance to write it down.