Mythology

Day breaks slowly on the slow rising land,
The day is slow to start anew.
I sadly hear the sharp calls from a band ,
Of crows, who are not my desire.
I wish to see, instead of this new Sun.
A terrible Sun God arise,
Apollo must begin his daily run.

Once God could stare at us through a glass pane,
Now we see only clear blue skies.
God in the first hour creates us in vain,
Now that we know how life began.
We should desire to start a fresh new faith
To sooth the troubled souls of men,
In which our yearning souls can come to bathe.

Once primal terror stalked the souls of men,
Who fled with the approach of storms.
Who thought the Gods who made the storms had been
Made angry by poor sacred gifts.
Emerging man appeased the idols born
Of his desire to know his soul,
Men trembled when they heard old Trition's horn.

Let not despire be our one holy shrine,
We must begin to study life.
We must not follow the sad modern line
Of those who ended their sad lives.
Do they have only tragedy to give?
They have taught us what it is to die,
Where is the poet beginning to live?

My eyes have seen Apollo's light appear
Over the rim of the wide world.
My mind begins to realize that the fear,
That preyed upon the beaten minds,
Shall not possess a lasting hold on man,
We shall not be afraid of doom,
If on our horizons of faith we scan.