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To Helios
Kindred spirit of the sky and heated light,
I perceive your wits to be of like metal.
We are minds of fire and of air,
And hold sway over an airy frame.
Though in civic duty you drive fiery steeds,
It is with divine muses you wish to be.
Laid down by the whispering stream,
With nymphs to sing sweet melodies.
Yet before this you must lay aside your bow,
And return to father your golden arrows.
You must cede your palace in the East,
And give up rights to the Chariot.
Let some other Fool be assigned to the task,
Yes, this is the wise advice I give you:
To sell all your Solar Trappings,
And forget all stakes in Fame.
Thus, you may run from Prometheus' home,
Finding the country that belongs to your heart.
You will find this land of your true loves,
In a hidden recess of the sea.
Its mighty cliffs and salt-laden mist have kept
Its lush valleys and subtle streams quite unknown.
So I bid you leave the Ganges,
To bathe your feet in nameless brooks.
Once you have receded into its shelter,
A thousand veils shall soon drop from your eyes.
One draft of its air shall fill your lungs
And your soul more than any ambrosia.
There it matters not whether you are immortal,
For what good is time where it doesn't exist?
There fruit grows not for more orchards,
But for more beauty to behold.
Under shade of sweet cypresses you will find
A vision bestowed to your eyes by honey nymphs.
This sight has the breadth of summer's orb,
And the clarity of soft, pure waters.
This newfound divinity shall lead you far,
Far from lands of consciousness and minds of reason.
It's there with the mother of muses
You will be satisfied as one.
-Neill Torna
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