This is actually the first work I’ve made for Apollon. I prefer to call Him Apollo, so that’s what you’ll see here. These adorations are tailored to fit me, so some things may look slightly off because I’ve changed wording around. I used seven sets of six adorations per set. Seven is a number sacred to Apollon, and six is a number that’s important to me. That’s 42 lines, which is significant because I am always a nerd.
Apollo, will of Zeus, I adore You.
Apollo, son of Leto, I adore You.
Apollo, twin of Artemis, I adore You.
Apollo, father of Asklepios, I adore You.
Apollo, father of Aristaios, I adore You.
Apollo, father of Khariklo, I adore You.
Apollo, light of the world, I adore You.
Apollo, light of the new moon, I adore You.
Apollo, wind in the storm, I adore You.
Apollo, bringing plague, I adore You.
Apollo, healing disease, I adore You.
Apollo, guide in death, I adore You.
Apollo, tragic lover, I adore You.
Apollo, pursuing Daphne, I adore You.
Apollo, throwing the discus at Hyakinthos, I adore You.
Apollo, gifting the stag to Kyparissos, I adore You.
Apollo, chasing Bolina into the sea, I adore You.
Apollo, betrayed by Koronis, I adore You.
Apollo, devouring wolf, I adore You.
Apollo, dancing spider, I adore You.
Apollo, ram horned, I adore You.
Apollo, surrounding me with bees, I adore You.
Apollo, in the form of the snake, I adore You.
Apollo, sneaking mouse, I adore You.
Apollo, destroying Python, I adore You.
Apollo, slaying Niobe’s sons, I adore You.
Apollo, bringing vengeance upon Tityos, I adore You.
Apollo, flaying Marysas, I adore You.
Apollo, building Troy, I adore You.
Apollo, raining arrows upon the Greeks, I adore You.
Apollo, leading Muses, I adore You.
Apollo, loving music, I adore You.
Apollo, master of the lyre, I adore You.
Apollo, archer far-shooting, I adore You.
Apollo, making oracles, I adore You.
Apollo, delighting in races, I adore You.
Apollo, ruling my path, I adore You.
Apollo, comforting my soul, I adore You.
Apollo, doorway to my heart, I adore You.
Apollo, breaking my chains, I adore You.
Apollo, teacher in all things, I adore You.
Apollo, my Prince, my love, my everything, I adore You.
Come with me to Hyperborea
And watch dolphins jump over the wake
My ship sailing through treacherous waters
Through which only our hearts may break
Come with me to the Glittering Garden
Where the whiteness is supreme
I’ll meet you in the flowers
Together, we will sing
Come with me to the Palace
And take off your worry there
I shall bury it in the Garden
And you will not despair
Come with me to the Holy Ground
Tell your secrets to the trees
They will warm and surround you
And cover you in leaves
Come with me to the Meadows
And lay upon the wild grass
Nothing will be the same
From this moment to the last
I am the Captain and the Gardener
And the Lover and the Bee
I will not be satisfied
Until you come with me
(Reposted with permission)
There are those times when Your sensation is all there is to feel
On my mind, in my mind; laughing and whispering
Throughout the day, You tease
And when we divine, You are playful
With hints of spirited dreams to come
They come, as starry Nyx wraps Her cloak around the earth, they come
Walking through the night
I see You
Gliding, stalking forward, so confident
A conqueror, yes
So beautiful, so graceful
I watch You, with wrathful eyes on me
And I despair!
But I do not long tremble
For suddenly I am prone, spread upon the cold, prickling earth
Dashed, like so many fallen leaves
Not cut through by the wind, but by my Prince’s golden sword!
So full! So full of light, and gold, and joy!
The body trembles
Now, pushed aside inside my own flesh
The will surrenders
For I could have no better master than He Who Masters all art
I am Your art now
To mould, in a way most pleasing
Therefore, do I rejoice in Your spirited dreams, and Your disciplined sensations
As I delight in the Bow, and in the Plague
And in Your ruthless touch
For Yours is the purification, and the taint before the purification
Yours is the Light, and the Darkness against which it is measured
When my eyes again greet arrows of piercing light
While they sting through drawn curtains and heavy eyelids
Those are the times of which I speak
Times of hope, of despair, of pain, and of love
O, my Bright, Far-darting Prince
When Your sensation is all there is
Noble, Honorable and Marvelous Apollon, gracious Lord,
Your soft whispers give me hope,
Through the deepest darkest river I ford,
Blinded by life’s slippery slope,
In the filth of my wicked ways,
Before my heart turns black,
Great Destroyer you set me ablaze,
Purifying my soul, you bring me back,
Enraptured by your radiant light,
In your arms I heal,
I can see with clear sight,
A better future you reveal,
Listening to your sweet song,
I stay close to your side,
Bound by love, I come along,
And together we shall ride.
Sometimes, when I read the words written down by other devotees of my god, tears fill my eyes. Their accounts of Him are so beautiful, so intense and inspiring, that it just leaves me speechless. I do not experience anything so profound, I would often say. And sometimes, I’ve even felt the sting of jealousy over what I had perceived to be a lack of ability, on my part.
Apollon speaks in many different ways. It is not always a booming voice, as He is a silent god, more often than not. And those sounds that I do hear, are not anything like a voice I would recognize, but rather, something associated with His domain. A swarm of bees, perhaps, or the sound of a clear, bubbling spring. He has many “voices”.
And then, there are those who write of His touch. The fire, the blinding light, and yes, He weilds these things, but He may also be the gentle breeze, or the rain falling softly upon your head. I often feel a slight stroke of His fingertips, brushing so slightly over my skin, mostly in those brief moments right before or after sleep. Apollon is the god of the Boundary, which includes that twilight time between waking and dreaming.
There are so many ways to meet Apollon, to feel Him, to see Him, to experience Him, and all are a part of His gift to us. I am myself trying to connect with Him in a new Place, where the Land feels different than what I am accustomed to. But, always, the Sun’s light is a steady beacon of His power, which I may draw upon to illuminate the dark spaces, wherein I can not see. And though He is all-consuming, His gentleness is like no other’s. He needn’t scorch you, just to touch you. He needn’t lead you down the Delphic path, for He has many paths, many roads. Each road originates from Him, and each leads back to Him, in the end.
This is Apollon, as I experience Him. Every moment of my journey is my testimony. He lives. He breathes. He loves. As do I. As do we all. And so, just living my life, ordinary though it may seem, I am aware of my god, intertwined with all life, and breath, and love.
Hail Apollon, who has many brides; He who loves much, and gives even more.
Among the Deathless Ones, Apollon is probably the one whose reputation has been more tarnished by modern rereadings of the myths. Today He is often remembered with adjectives like petty, temperamental, indifferent to mortals’ plights, fickle… when He is not equaled to Nietzche’s ideal of strict and frigid rationality, He’s frequently defined as an adolescently immature and delicate god, going from one extreme to its polar opposite.
While each one of those stereotypical representations is distant from Apollon’s true nature, He is indeed a god of sharp-edged extremes, as it is beautifully demonstrated by his two main attributes – the lyre and the bow – showing that compassionate generosity and ruthless violence find both expression in His character.
This is more evident than in Apollon’ s mythic stories of tragic love.
We have three themes that recur in Apollon’s loves – the first is the ‘escape’, where the god pursues – and most specifically, He chases, like a predator, like the wolf that is His animal counterpart– the object of His love until He catches up to Them, eventually. The most famous example is the nymph Daphne, his very first love, who to escape Him is turned into a laurel tree and still is chosen to be His crown, but Kastalia’s story has just the same meaning. Like Daphne, Kastalia is a nymph who spurned Apollon’s love transformed herself, turning her body into a pool of water to escape his restless pursuit. Yet, her waters were the ones who inspired Delphi’s priestesses and there they were used to cleanse the temple. Therefore she too became a powerful tool of the god, regardless her initial resistance.
Kyrene’s case is a little different – the Thessalian princess is seized and spirited away to Libya, where she gives into Apollon and conceives with Him a son, yet the basic construct of Apollon’s pursuit remains – there’s a sense of the lover being ‘hunted’ from the god that I found to be common enough among Apollon’s chosen servants. And indeed how can one to not run from Apollon, when first faced with the unrelenting focus of the god’ interest? There’s an intensity to it that burns and consumes and while you are inevitably drawn to it, like a moth to the flame, the instinctual response is still ‘run or you will get scorched’.
The second pattern is maybe the most evident – death and transformation. If you look to Apollon’ s involvement with Ciparissus and Hyacinth in particular, the god’s presence and love somehow triggers their death and following transfiguration into plants that reflect their deeper nature. Hyacinth and Ciparisuss are immortalized through and in Apollon’ s love- He leads them to the death of the old self and into enlightenment, making them an example of what happens when one’s calling to Apollon is embraced completely and to the god’s satisfaction.
The third pattern has the god offering gifts to His prospective lovers and turning them into curses when they don’t maintain their promise of offering themselves to Him in return. Cassandra receives the gift of prophecy and The Sybil an incredibly long life, yet they both refuse to give themselves to Him.
Faithful to His role of preserver of lawful order, Apollon stands by his side of the contract and instead of withdrawing those gifts, He makes impossible for Cassandra and the Sybil to enjoy them. In those instances, I see Apollon acting more like a judge, punishing those who dare to break a contract with a god, than a jilted admirer, especially looking at how for Olympians, hubris was the very worst sin one could commit toward deity.
On a more figurative interpretation, we might say that as a deity responsible for the Mastery Of Self, Apollon acts opening His followers to the development of their best qualities in service to their community –both Cumae’s Sybil and Cassandra were seers and His priestesses, after all- so to shut the Self out of His favor has those qualities He has bestowed on it grow wild and out control, so they are no longer a tool of improvement for the community but a reason to be isolated from it.
This is not a denial of His harsher tempers, naturally. The flaying of Marsyas is not the only mythical proof of Apollon’ s capacity for ruthless punishments – Koronis ‘s betrayal with the mortal Ischys is soon rewarded with death, upon His request if not by His hand. That episode contrasts somewhat with Marpessa’s and Chione’s examples. As Apollon is shown to share Chione freely with His brother Hermes and to accept Marpessa’s choice of the mortal Idas over Him, the purpose of Koronis’ story is not merely portraying Apollon as a possessive god (although He’s quite able to claim the major part of His devotees time or attention). As it suits to someone who is directly concerned with law-giving, the worst of Apollon’ s rage is reserved to those behave falsely and /or with hubris.
(Reposted with permission)
Lord of the sun
Successor and apprentice to Helios
Son of Zeus and Leto
Brother of Artemis
Father of Asclepius, Troilus, Aristarchus, and Orpheus
The kouros ideal
Lord of truth and prophecy
Of healing and plague
Of music and poetry
Judge of the Pythian Games
Lord of the colonies
Born on Delos
Under a palm