The Cycle of the Season

There he sat graced in gold

Divine the bride of light,

Caressed the words from their mould

Until the Beauty left the Spite

Within the nature lay Apollo

Adorned the isle of Delos

Playing the harp he sang his sorrow

Yet the harmony is to many lost!

The music swam and swam

Luminous a longing delight

Softly sewing an ocean a lamb

Natures knowing of tuneful sight

Like the air so free

He lay down his harp

A beautiful vision no man can see

Holy slumber the weight of dark

Dreaming beneath the celestial canopy

The ruby red moon in Apollo’s prophecy...

She’s ecstasy. Dancing. Ethereal

On the preternatural surface,

The music liquid in her body swims from elsewhere, she soaks the moon red

She’s in ecstasy the moon is

Ecstasy...

Upon the barren moon the notes fell apart

In fragments that rained on

Artemis’ now so calmly heart

From his vision Apollo looked in ecstasy

            At the crimson moon. Blessed from radiance,

                        Enamoured and unscathed he began to play to perform it all

Their worlds were once in tangles

Now entwined. Artemis, Apollo

The salt of the earth and the

Crust of the moon swallowed

The revelation of terrestrial rebirth

Only balanced by the

Charcoal burnt sunrise.

There he sat graced in gold...

She’s ecstasy, she’s dancing...