Ethereal Choir)
Choir (Whispering)
Golden light, a fleeting shadow…
The hunter’s heart, the nymph’s escape
Fate’s cruel hand, the sun’s bright arrow
Love is a wound, a fleeting shape.

2.  "Apollo’s Lament"
(Male Solo Apollo / Lyre Leitmotif)
I am the sun, the song, the flame,
Yet you elude my burning name.
Your laughter haunts the forest air
A melody I cannot bear.

I’ll chase you through the endless green,
Through rivers, rocks, and skies unseen.
For in your flight, I see my fate
A love that burns, yet comes too late."


3 Daphne’s Flight
Female Solo Daphne Flute Leitmotif

I am the wind, the stream, the tree,
No chains of gold will capture me.  
Your light is fierce, your touch a brand
I’ll flee your fire, I’ll make my stand.

The earth will shield me, roots will rise,
My branches stretch to claim the skies.  
Your love is fire, but I am free
A laurel’s crown, not destiny."


4. The Transformation
(Choir & Orchestra Swell, Tragic)

Roots entwine, the bark takes hold,
Her breath becomes the forest’s gold.  
The sun still burns, the chase is done
Her heart is wood, her soul the sun.

(Apollo’s Despair)
No! I am light, I am the flame
Yet you are gone, and I’m to blame.  
Your leaves will whisper in the breeze  
A song of love that never frees.

(Daphne’s Final Words)

I am the tree, the wind, the sky,
No longer yours, yet still I sigh.  
Wear my crown, remember me
A love that lives eternally.


5 Finale: "Laurel’s Lullaby"
Choir & Orchestra, Bittersweet

Golden chains and laurel veils,
The sun still weeps where Daphne trails.  
Her branches cradle every dawn
A love immortal, never gone.

(Apollo’s Resolve)

I’ll wear your leaves, your crown of green,
And in your shade, I’ll dream unseen.  
Though you are tree, and I am flame,
Our love will burn in nature’s name.

(Closing Choir, Fading)

The sun and tree, forever bound,
In whispered winds, their love is found.  
A laurel’s sigh, a golden ray
Apollo’s heart, Daphne’s way.

My skin it burns and scorches
These twisted Seven Suns
It reeks, it's caustic
These curséd Seven Suns.

You loathsome orbs
My malice for you unbounded.
You wicked sons of Apollo
May the cities shun your name!

My hands they crack and sizzle
'neath these Seven Suns
These fruits they wilt and shrivel
'neath these Seven Suns.

The wisened ropes they wither
On harshly laboured waists
And ancient stones they crumble
Before masons lay to waste.

I beg the seasons of mercy
"Grant Icarus his revenge!"
Let them rain their naked blessings
And deliver me your end.

You'll scorch the earth that stays me
and clench the air I breathe
But come the fall of night
I'll dance upon your wreaths.

"You curséd sons,
You devlish pests,
No more, no more!"

I'll rejoice in your relief
Pay tribute to your demise
As the moonlight it embalms me
And the darkness clothes my eyes.

Now Nyx's reign commences
Her air so cool and pure
The slender fingers of night
Beckon nocturnal dawn.

Don't get caught in the Rain,
Only to be struck by Lightning
And curse the Thunder.

For Oceans are beckoning,
Electric is waving,
Thunder is speaking;

The point is,
Pick up the torch.

For when fires are raging & spreading
You either lead, leave, or get burned.

A Tiny Explanation Of The Previous Work Posted:

In the "mysteries" of "Dionysus,"
Or the philosophy of Apollo,
This means stand when you imbibe libations.
When/if you do drugs.

To better know how inebriated or intoxicated
You are or have become.
To properly imbibe them rather than be binded by them or blinded by them.

Similarly, such libations can cause sickness
Without moderation. Such things zap us
Of our relaxation, even stealing our tongue(s).

Hunting what the cause is -
Searching for the light in silence or by abstaining,
Can rebirth the (good) time
Of truth wrapped in/up.

We must ward off sickness;
About our troubles we must talk.



What made them philosophies to the Order(s),
Was the constants between cultures.
You could rattle off names of "Titans" & "Gods"
To easily communicate
Whatever was happening,
Readily understood by those initiated.

Very useful if you spoke different languages,
If it was not safe/was dangerous to talk in open/openness.

And what made them "mysteries"
Was that outside observers
Were left clueless
Unless they themselves had found the light/sawed through the darkness
Or hunted for the truth(s) of the matter(s).



It was a language of Philosophy,
The Philosophy of Language.

Cursed? Condemned?
To wander the Earth for eternity?
Aeneas, or Cain as some call him,
Was a person of renown - a leader and scholar.
Part of the crew of Odysseus,
He was called to the ship
But neglected to board it.
The name of the isle of flowers?

The Garden of Eden.
It's caretaker? Cybele.

Before the isle
Aeneas, like others,
Were offered the Trials.
This was to visit all the places
Currently & properly "gardened."
Reward for completion of the Trials
Was longevity, strength, et cetera.
Gnomen & Seers had procured,
Through generations of Trial & error,
A potent cataplasm
Which they learned to mutate/grow
Into a selected fruit.
Like an apple.

The Garden of Eden
Was a place of experimentation,
Much in the same vein as the Tower of Babel.
Where the Tower of Babel was focused
On the development and perfection of communication;
In things like language, oration, poetry, literature, et cetera
The Garden of Eden was focused
On experimentation with different forms of chemicals.
Chemicals, of course, coming in many forms;
Plants, minerals, other natural phenomena, substances & combinations, et cetera.
Part of this was experimentation with psychotropics,
Attempting to develop natural immunities
To such things like alcohol and cannabis.

Aeneas & Cybele,
Driven mad by drugs & mental-illness,
Left the isle.
For Aeneas was a rule-breaker
And confided in Cybele all that he understood and knew
About the Trials.
Aeneas had one trial left,
The Maze.

The Maze was enormous.
Upon its walls
All of human history was carved,
The entirety of that which was experienced by us.
All that had been relayed by various Gnomen & Seers
Through generation after generation.
Carved in ways that could be universally understood,
At least by those living within those ancient societies.

The red thread?

A guide to weapons, combat, subjugation/*******, et cetera.
This area of the Maze
Also housed a weapons cache
In the event the Maze was threatened or attacked.
Who informed Aeneas of the red thread?
Cybele.
Who informed Cybele?
Scylla.

You see, as previously mentioned,
Part of the Trials was to visit
All these areas which had been "gardened."
Auxiliary to this
Was to visit all those
Who had been deemed unworthy or had failed the Trials,
Like Scylla had been before meeting Cybele.
Living cautionary tales,
"Condemned" not to "wander"
But to live out their natural existences
On isles which were gardened for beings
Like predators and plant life which was vicious.

It was Scylla who "blew" Odysseus & his crew off course,
Knowing of Cybele & Eden.
Cybele who later drugged the "Minotaur."

My waters you wade,
Learning to swim before you even walk.
Protected by my sons,
Castor & Pollux.
Similarly, provided for & cared for.

Μέσα σε όνειρα και σε εφιάλτες
Τόσες ευκαιρίες και πρόσωπα σβησμένα
Βήματα που έγιναν με βάρος και με τόλμη
Και τελικά πήγαν χαμένα

Μέσα στη ζούγκλα ένα άγριο ζώο
Που δε ζητάει ποτέ αυτό που θέλει
Βρες το κάτω από το δέρμα
Σκάψε εντός, κοίτα στον καθρέφτη

Είναι ένα παζλ που του λείπουν κομμάτια
Είναι ένα αίνιγμα που του λείπουν στοιχεία
Μια πόλη στον θόρυβο πνιγμένη
Και ποιος ο λόγος μου να μείνω;

Όπου κι αν δείχνουν τα σημάδια
Όποια κατεύθυνση κι αν δίνουν
Εκείνη─      μισεί εμένα
Και εγώ─    νιώθω το ίδιο