The true story of Apollo remains untold
The perfection, the encodement
The engineering of beauty in many times and places.
When the ship left I knew nothing of
War, blood and man; a symptom of celestial affinity
Fallen with angels, but destined, in whatever
Unguidede form, to live separated from them.
Cypress to me then may well have been
Some far-off star. When you had been gone
Even for a few days, the empty garden was
An embracing lonliness.
Later in India, in the bright market places
The blazing colors and smell of roses
Never awoke me to a life that felt real:
Only the dull sound of gold spilling
Made me think of you,
Unfuneral’d, no praise singer present
To reveal your story.
Under Apollo in Athens your smile smiles forever
The God looking straight ahead,
Still pretending he saw nothing.
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