Inspired mostly by my girlfriend‘s virtual shrine to Hermes, and having a bit of time to play around at work tonight, I e hopped on the virtual shrine bandwagon and created one for Apollo. For anyone reading and interested, I have it set up so that anyone may use it and leave virtual candles- feel free to leave one in His honor. It is very simple, with a picture of one of my favorite statues of Apollo and a quote from Hilda Doolittle’s poem Delphi (full text is below, hidden because it’s long). I’ll probably change the picture and text from time to time, but for now it is as it stands.

Delphi by Hilda Doolittle

(His Song)
Now I know
there is no before
nor after,
that all escape lies in the perfect
contour;
now I know that the tale of his lust
is lies,
his allure has outwitted the flesh,
his lust
is pure-lust of the eyes
for beauty
in tangible things,
his words
fly with wings

now I know
that all who have spoken ill,
who imperil
and threaten the god,
are holding their souls to a mirror,
light threatens, is active, is gone,
so it is with a song;

are you strong?
he is strong;
are you weak?
he prevails- but not you
to question
his power when you falter,
the blame is your own;
he knows not remorse, nor repents,
he remains

faultless and perfect and whole;
he is;
you may burn,
you may curse,
you may threaten,
you may pour out red-gold on his
altar
he comes to no call
not to magic
nor reason;

his word
is withdrawn,
hieratic,
authentic,
a king’s,
yet all may recieve it;
he turns at a whim,
who answers no threat,
no call of the flue,
no drm-beat of the drum;
you may bargain
and threaten,
the prophet
is distant and mute;

yet one day
he will speak
through a child or a thrush
or a stray in the market;
he will touch
with the arm of a herdsman
your arm
he will brush
with the lips of a brother
your lips;
you will flame into song,

that no merchant can buy,
that no priest can cajole;
he is here,
he is gone.

(His Presence)

I forswore red wine
and the white,
I was whole,
I forswore lover and love,
all delight
must come
I had said
of the soul;
I waited impassioned,
alone and alert
in the night;
did he come?

I forswore child and my home
I said
i will walk,
to his most distant wood
for his laurel;
i wandered alone;
I said,
on the height, I will find
him;
I said,
he will come with the red
first pure light of the sun;

I read volume and tome
of old magic,
I made sign and cross-sign;
he must answer old magic;
he must know the old symbol,
I swear I will find him,
I will bind
his power in a faggot,
a tree,
a stone,
or a bush or a jar
of well-water,
I went far
to old pilgrim-sites
for that water;

I entreated the grove and the spring,
the bay-tree in flower,
I was wise on my way,
they said I was wise,
I was steeped in their lore,
I entreated his love,
I prayed him each hour;
I was sterile
and barren
and songless.

I came back:
he opened my door.

(His Riddle)

in his power then
a toad,
or a flower,
I asked,
does it withter?
does he rise in the clod,
does he die?
his riddle is painful,
his coming too facile,
if I serve him,
I lie
for years,
a field fallow
then furrows of rye, of wheat and of
barley,
spring up,
all too early;

the wheat-ear
and the poppy,
nod, one with the lily,
iris
and anemone;
when my days are lonely,
he shuns me,
when busy,
he crowds through the throng
of my friends and guests,
remember your vows, he says,
you are priest:

if I kneel at a shrine,
he says,
song is wine.

(His ecstasy)

He is yours,
he is mine,
if we quarrel to hold him,
h goes;
his the red-lily,
the white-rose;
if you struggle to whet
your stylus,
if you hurry to melt
scented wax
for your tablets,
he knows
no pity;

you will write in the city
of fir-trees and loam
in the fields
you will sing of the market;
you will be
among prophets a satyr;
when the note of the flute
calls to dance,
you will walk
drunk but not
with that mixed wine;
his tune is his own;
in his, not in your time;
ecstasy will betray you;
if he cares,
he will flay
if he loves,
he will slay you.

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