sing to me the harmonies
of your resounding truth

teach me how to live with the light
of your heliocentric life

mend my messy human heart with
your strong yet gentle hands

show me how to fight like a god
with your bow of silver

strum me the way you play your golden lyre
on starlit evenings by the sea

let me kneel before you and worship you
in the ruins of your temple

and every morning
when your trot along the clouds on your chariot
to bring the sun across the sky
look down and find me,

and know that i will be waiting.

I should never feel lost
I am never alone
There’s this shadow always with me
Into my ear he whispers
The way for me to go
I cannot see or touch him
But I feel his presence all the same
He sooths me when I’m crying
And places dreams inside my heart
And when I start to doubt my feet
His hand is there in mine
Always gently leading
…me further down my path

For the Dragon hissed as the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss as the night subsides,
Python’s bliss as naiad’s cried,
And the wailing woe’s on a weathering tide,

Water-wall from Kētos scream, tsunami crash, swallow everything,

Rolling clouds and the pouring rain and the serpent dying writhing in pain,

And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo kissed away the night time sky,
And the Python’s bliss as his naiad’s cry,

The Sun awoke at the wheel-house berth, armor gold, chest-plate of Earth,

And valiance choked, squeezed by Ladon’s girth,

As the serpent swelled with the stormy seas,

To collapse great hero upon his knees,

Apollo, Cadmus and Hercules.

Reborn by fire, Father-Lion’s roar, returned each night to even-up the score,

And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss ward off night time skies,
Oh the wailing woe of ominous tides,

The scythe or club, boulder at night, rocks from heaven and the perilous fight,

Black-oil venom, heart of a beast, starry night’s runner split from the east,

Noxious breathe, flame-seared teeth, smell of death from a ****** feast,

Speared at the neck, pinning head to earth, then celebrated as a day of birth,

The serpent on his shoulder, or dangling from the tree,

Arising from the waters, from the depths beneath,

Cast out under a mountain, yes underneath, then wear his skin and sow his teeth!

And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died,
Apollo’s kiss as the fight subsides,

And Python’s bliss as his muses wailed, between the horns where Argo sailed,

Call it a man or Charybdis, Scylla, rock, a multi-headed beast,

Or just two horns with a middle disk and Apollo’s fire, Sun’s dawning kiss,

And the Dragon hissed as the Dragon dies,
And Apollo’s kiss create the day time skies,
And the Python’s bliss at his naiad’s cries,
And the Dragon hissed and the Dragon died!

How quiet it must have been
for you, Michael Collins...
How calm it must have seemed
for you, Michael Collins...
How tranquil you must have felt
up there alone
with no one on the radio,
except for you, Michael Collins...

Doing something no one had done
with no one around to see
because you were in a place no one had been
with no way to share what you saw
because even radios fail that far away from home.
But not you, Michael Collins...

How dark was it in there
with not even the sun to guide your way?
How still was the air
with not even the wind to make a sound?

How many times did you ask yourself,
Michael Collins,
if you would ever see home again?
How many times did you think to yourself,
Michael Collins,
that you might not ever again
see the faces you remember?

On that clearest night,
did the stars not seem brighter than before?
Upon coming into the sun again,
did you,
Michael Collins,
not feel lighter than before?

It must have been strangely startling
to have been startled by that strange crackle
coming from the radio.
For another human voice to sound so foreign
yours must have been a lie.

How did it feel leaving that void,
Michael Collins,
and crashing back into existence?
How soon did it feel,
to you, Michael Collins,
that your feet were back on the ground?

I imagine you must miss that silence.
...
I imagine you must
from time to time
walk far far away
and look at the stars.

I would ask you one question if I could,
Michael Collin,
on the clearest night
when you look up into that darkness
have the stars ever been brighter than before?

Love is Light.
You are like the sun.
Beautiful, pure, and bright.
Lively warmth was my invite.
A light being lightyears ahead.
Your smile caught a star.

Your eyes contain diamond seas.
Cooling me with seafoam teardrops.
Fluid and fertile with wonder, they seize.
Rainbows dance at lush waterfall tops.

You house the Heavens.
I've found it in your heart.
I marvel at your temple of art.
Love and peace, wisdom, acceptance.
How godly divine, your innermost essence.

In all that I'm learning of you,
I find myself loving the Universe, true.
For you contain the heavens, the seas, and the stars.
When I take you in, we're floating with Mars.

Wait, if Jesus died for our sins,
wouldn't his sacrifice be in vein
if we don't sin?

Or, is it that
he was killed
because of our sinful nature?

Further, would his selfless redemption have been possible without the ever-so-hated Judas?
Isn't he just as necessary as Jesus to this tale?
Just as the Devil is with God?

I guess I'm overthinking this.
Thinking begets trouble.

I hear your lyre cries
I hear your grief and sorrow
I hear your love for me.

You refuse to listen as they tell you
That I am too far beneath the surface
Trapped in the clutches of death's flames.

My beautiful minstrel, no longer incandescent
Do you think Apollo would be proud of what you've come to?
You roam around with your lyre of gold,
Yet you have killed your flame for love lost.

I miss the way you enchanted all of Greece with your melodies
You now make the gods and goddesses weep in pity;
You make the flowers wilt and die of sadness,
You make even the sirens wail of broken heartedness as
they drive away the sailors who were once enchanted by them.

Do you see the beautiful might of the songs you sing?

O Orpheus, listen to me when I tell you to stop searching for me:
Do not enter the caves and traverse the darkness once more
A darkness you are not meant to be in,
Darkness you are too precious for.

I hear your lyre cries
I hear your grief and sorrow
I hear your love for me
And I am sorry I could not come back with you...

But listen now, my love
Although you long for me still
I am now the only thing in your world
That your music cannot bring back to life.

he is the one
who brings the sun to shine

he is the ink
that dances across the pages
giving birth to beautiful poetries

he makes great symphonies
with his lyre he'll give you a show

he can bestow you great health
but try not to anger him
for you may suffer the plague he brings

it has been a great day
but it's time for him to go

he'll be back tomorrow
with more symphonies
and poetry for show

wielding his silver bow and arrow
while riding his sun chariot across the sky
you will easily recognize him
he is the god Apollo.

Admetus swallowed the sun.
His throat was raw, tongue heavy with words.
Words of praise, of worship,
but the sun refuted him.
His light was dimmed,
hidden by dirt and muck, things he chose.
He seemed more human than God,
and Admetus loved him for it.
Still, the sun shows affection by shining brightly.
He glinted off coins, off crown, off sparkling seas.
He crested the horizon, casting shadows.
He shone on Admetus,
illuminating,
reflecting the deep bronze of his skin,
the curve of his spine,
the length of his fingers,
the line of his waist,
the tip of his tongue as it passed his lips,
the shadow of hair on his jaw,
the ridge of his calf.
He seemed more God than human,
and the sun loved him for it.
He fought for Admetus,
gave him all he wanted,
and took what he too desired.
But still, the sun is eternal.
Man is finite.
The sun shone on Admetus for as long as he could,
longer than he should have,
stealing back time from the grasp of silver scissors.
But it was not enough.
And when Admetus’ time came,
the sun was dim.
The twilight fell upon the world,
and the darkness seemed to last for an eternity,
though it is not told in story or verse.
Admetus swallowed the sun,
his body warm,
his eyes bright,
his fingers spread.
And then the sun swallowed him whole.

ares,
wake your son.
tell him the battle will go away if he keeps his eyes
open long enough.
tell him that his mind is his greatest
comrade and enemy,
and that he does not need to know
when which is which just yet; but to
trust himself enough to
live with the consequence of either.

ares,
wake your son.
tell him to find his mother within him,
and not look to you and your plights as a
reflection.
he was born from love and war,
love and war,
and more time was spent in the womb of
the prior; that wars have been
waged for the word,
and resolved by the same.

ares,
wake your son.
remind him that, while the
sun does not revolve around him,
it depends on what he determines his
sun to be.
may he have many
and learn to appreciate them equally.
i am too old to keep making stars.
the sky is full.

ares,
wake your son.
press your thumb to his forehead,
wrap your arm around his shoulder,
he needs to know that he is cared for,
though i cannot understand;
who has he met that has told him otherwise?
touch him only if he asks,
but read his eyes- he is asking.

ares,
wake your son.
the son of war has battled.
tear him from the lip of vulcan,
remind him of the mistakes of troy,
teach him what these men did not have
that he does.
if he does not,
remind him that while he is your seed,
he is the nephew of athena.
promise him he can learn-
he can.

ares,
wake your son.
the son of love is loved.
wake him to remind him he is alive-
poseidon likes to play games,
and he seems to have gotten to his mind.
he has not yet drowned,
and he never will.
****** will bring him up with winds,
it is up to him to fall or ride them.

ares,
wake your son.
he has grieved too long
over battles he has not yet fought
and may never have to.

ares,
wake your son.