Blessed by Apollo

Blessed by Apollo:

Sometimes I feel him in the air, sometimes I feel him everywhere. Beneath the sun, that dimmed so brightly the night you died. Blessed by Apollo, by the Ink in my veins. Put all my feelings to paper, him over my shoulder. Are you there, Apollo? I’m not afraid to disappear, because I’ll haunt the palaces I built upon my many words, the cathedrals I built upon my poems, blessed by Apollo.