The Logos of Apollo
A snake divided into many pieces
Brings forth the gift of my prophecy
For while no oracle sits to deliver
my sight, that vision shall be made clear
I have done many things over this war
and as I look upon the victims of
my sting, contagious and ever biting
I see in them the anguish of my own
My priestess taken from my halls in prize
Agamemnon gloating from his palace tent
my servants groveling hat in hand with
eyes downcast, pleading for the return of
That which was stolen from no battlefield.
My son on his knees. A blade through his throat.
This was what I repaid upon the Greeks.
But my hand was far too heavy I fear.
Again and again I have repaid all
those who violated my laws and home
But no lesson was learned, save that of thieves
The lie that evil lay in getting caught.
What had I become in my rage? The pride
the muses declared as the greatest ill
Riddled my heart, and I could not accept
That my half-brother could ever equal
The Joy and strength that I grant and demand
Of man. The knowledge I impart was clear
to those who had the wit to see, and the
laughing jests of those who denied my Rule
Did weigh upon me like stone manacles.
Denial of all who denied my true
rule over all of thought. Dogma will Be.
For no more should man question the great gods.
Forgive me. For I have done you great ill.
Forgive me, Cassandra. For in jealous
love I did you great harm and cursed your name.
Forgive but do not forget, for as man
Even a god can fail at being true
to his desired nature and image.
Remember the failings, for upon such
memories are engraved the path forward.