Said Apollo was the darkness
all his Temperance and discernment
only kept the light before us
Because he framed it for the blind.
He brought shadows only
of the gods who needed Mnemosyne
When they came in amnesia sunrise new again.
"They are symbols," he said,
"Not much use for a woman
Who barters in the real thing ..."
"What makes words happen
Speaks so softly," she replied,
"No sun or sky could ever amplify it."
"My Chariot is knowledge itself, my dear,
Carried with a sword of will and caduceus of service
To shine as the divine on all things equally."
"Nothing is born in your light," she replied,
"No angels conceived, no mysteries revealed.
Men are put as beasts to reap in the heat under the eye."
"Better pain and grief than your miracles!" He cried.
"Your magic is unwise. How can the slaves save themselves
If you tell them there's no shackles?"
"The slaves only hear in the night, in the quiet of the womb
The one voice that hadn't abandoned them
In your quest for identity and its division."
"So you see a point in my architecture?" He sputtered,
"A sliver of moonlight peeks through the oracle ball!
Why would they seek out what is without what is not?"
"We need you, yes, to distort and forget, to make the real
A recoverable thing, but with each roll of your sun,
A belief in what is not fools like a mesmer's coin,
Mind feeds on its empty and endless self."
"So THAT'S why you speak so loudly,
Daring Poseidon to drown all of Delphi
To keep your hisses above the din of humans thinking.
Do you not see the irony?"
"Without a voice unheard unheeded
There would be no hope," she calmly asserted,
And he gave her at last what she wanted,
A home on the other side of the sky
Where she wouldn't have to see
his inevitable project unfold
On the unsuspecting populace.
Instead, she would be as a human,
whose cord goes always to the core,
Where all that is obtainable is easy to find
By a heart tamed by mind, once he's left her
by looking.
